


Harry Potter’s Home for the Wayward Witch or Wizard...

by Aynn_Ward



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-01-16 16:07:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 40,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18524965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aynn_Ward/pseuds/Aynn_Ward
Summary: It’s simple really. Harry Potter has opened his doors to any and all who need a place to stay and, down on his luck, Draco Malfoy appears.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning. Rated M for mature themes and language. Talk of prostitution and violence (rape), but not actually “seen.” Snarking and snapping by our two lovely boys...with an eventual love match. Or so I hope. We’ll see what happens, yeah?
> 
> Grimmauld Place. I’ve sort of taken what we’ve seen in the movies and intermingled it with what’s described in the books (which I found in a more condensed, easier to understand, document...The Harry Potter Lexicon (online) and Harry Potter Wiki (online). I’m a HUGE user of these two sites to garner facts from the books without actually having to go searching the books. So, while I don’t think Grimmauld Place is as large as I’ve made it, that’s just too damned bad. Further, I’ve drawn out the entire floor plan, as it appears in my story, and will eventually find a way to put a picture in here.

**Harry Potter’s Home for the Wayward Witch or Wizard...and the occasional Muggle who’s in the know!**

 

**-oOo-**

**Chapter One**

**-oOo-**

 

Things had been quite shitty for Draco Malfoy since the war. He and his father were immediately arrested and his mother was ordered to go home and remain there until further notice. Draco was lucky though; he only spent three months locked up, but Lucius Malfoy would not see the light of day for quite some time.

 

For Narcissa Malfoy, further notice turned out to be thirty days, by which time she was ordered to vacate Malfoy Manor, as it—and most everything in it—was due to be sold, the proceeds going to various charities after the Ministry confiscated a chunk of it to pay for Lucius Malfoy’s incarceration. Narcissa was, however, allowed to remove certain items to keep for herself and her son. All things she’d brought into her marriage—including her own account at Gringotts—as well as gifts she had received over the years, were hers to take. She was also given permission to take everything that was in her son’s suite of rooms, as none of it—mostly clothing and childhood keepsakes—seemed to be of interest to the Ministry. Draco’s things, she placed in her vault at Gringotts, then she took her own belongings and left the country, not even to return when her son was released.

 

After Draco’s release, he visited his mother’s vault to see what was there, but quickly realized she’d not left him much. Apparently she hadn’t been allowed. This was explained in a short letter; she’d been forbidden from giving him any money as long as he stayed in the country. She also let him know where she’d gone—to France to stay with a cousin, Maximilian Le Noire, whom she’d never once mentioned in Draco’s eighteen years. She’d invited her son to join her there, but he’d never liked France much, so decided instead to stay in England.

 

But staying wasn’t as easy as one might think. Without the Galleons he was accustomed to living on, he didn’t know what to do with himself. For a short time he was able to live off selling the things his mother had saved for him, but quickly those things were gone and he was looking at homelessness.

 

And so he turned to the Greengrasses. Draco’d known from an early age that he was betrothed to the younger Greengrass daughter, but hadn’t wanted to marry her—and that was because he’d _also_ known from an early age that he was gay. But now was no time to be picky; he was in need and they were _loaded_.

 

But things didn’t work out there either. His owl was returned with a curt response: _I will **not** have my daughter marry the likes of **you** , Malfoy_!

 

And then Draco ran into an old friend; Pansy Parkinson.

 

But Pansy wasn’t in very good shape either. Her parents hadn’t been involved in the war, but they’d somehow managed to lose everything (in Briton) as well and she’d had to resort to staying with friends—until her welcome had worn off. And when that happened, she’d turned to scavenging—as well as other things—to live, because no one seemed willing to help her.

 

“I don’t want you doing that, Pansy,” Draco said, objecting to what the woman was talking about doing—yet _again_.

 

“We need to eat, Draco,” she said simply, sighing. “It’s not the first time, you know, and...if you recall, I’m good at enticing.” She winked at him and jiggled her...assets.

 

But Draco only frowned. “Let me do it then,” he offered. He too was good at this. Usually.

 

She smiled sadly. “You need to rest, Draco. That cold you have is nasty.”

 

As if her words reminded him, Draco wheezed, tears forming in the corners of his eyes as a racking cough tore through him. When he could speak again, he said, “I’m coming with you then. For protection.”

 

Pansy shook her head. “Last time no one would take me with you there. Plus, you look dreadful; it’s a turn off, darling.”

 

Draco frowned. The last time she’d gone alone, she’d come back with bruises. “I don’t like this.”

 

Pansy shrugged. “Neither do I, but...I’ll be fine, love,” she said, trying to reassure him. “Then we can get a room somewhere. And a meal.”

 

“We need to find jobs... _real_ ones.”

 

She nodded. “Yes, but no one will hire us...especially with us looking like street urchins.”

 

At her words, Draco’s eyes filled with tears; he’d never, in his wildest _nightmares_ , thought he’d end up like this. “What are we going to do, Pansy?” he rasped with obvious desperation.

 

“Don’t know,” the dark-haired woman said with a shrug as she tried to straighten herself up. Then she knelt down and pulled the tattered old blanket up to Draco’s chin. “Right now, I can only think about...right now.”

 

Draco sighed—then ducked his mouth beneath the blanket and coughed again.

 

“Just rest, Draco,” she said, stroking his sweaty brow. “I’ll be back in a couple hours, then we’ll have some money.”

 

Pursing his lips, the blond nodded—but once she was gone he began to sob.

 

**-oOo-**

 

Harry Potter wasn’t completely sure how it all got started, all he knew was that Grimmauld Place was no longer cold, empty, and lonely. Instead, it was a house _full_ of activity, nearly bursting at the seams, and...oddly enough, he _liked_ it that way.

 

After the war he took in a few friends, then a few more—then strangers started showing up on his doorstep, having heard he’d open his doors to those in need and needing a place to stay. On some nights, it very much seemed like the Knight Bus made regular stops there, but it was _great_!

 

And so he’d done some remodeling. Well, more like became a master at creating wizard space—but he also worked at cleaning things up. All the strange creatures living in the house had been eradicated, making each room livable for humans. Then the walls were painted and/or repapered and the floors were either resurfaced or new carpets were installed. It was quite lovely now.

 

And so Grimmauld Place became _Harry Potter’s Home for the Wayward Witch or Wizard_ —and the occasional Muggle who’s in the know! That last part was added when first, a wizard, his Muggle wife, and their two young children turned up on Harry’s doorstep, claiming they’d lost everything and needed a place to stay and, second, with the arrival Petunia and Dudley Dursley.

 

Well, Harry’s aunt and cousin hadn’t _turned up_ on his doorstep. The truth was that Harry’d received an owl from the Ministry, notifying him that his relatives were in need and, being the person that he was, he couldn’t leave them stranded—despite the hell they’d put him through while he was growing up. Apparently his aunt’s husband—Harry _refused_ to call the bastard his uncle—had abandoned his wife and son when they expressed the desire to look for Harry and make sure he was okay. Good _fucking_ riddance, Vernon Dursley!

 

And so Harry’d gone to the crap place his aunt and cousin had been staying in and rescued them, bringing them to his now quite crowded abode and giving them a room on the first floor—the room across from the drawing room and down the hall from the two rooms that housed the wizard and his wife and children.

 

Beneath the first floor was the ground floor, where the main entrance to Grimmauld Place could be found. Upon entering the house, one could hang up his/her outer clothing in the cloak room, then enter the various rooms on that floor. On the right was a good-sized parlor, where some of the ladies liked to gather for tea, and then a smaller room that had once been a sitting room, but now housed a billiard table. On the left was the tapestry room, with a fully-restored _Noble and Most Ancient House of Black_ tapestry. And at the back, the main dining room. There were also a few sets of stairs; two leading up and into the rest of the house and one leading down to the basement.

 

The basement had several rooms as well, most notably a massive eat-in kitchen. But there was also a wine cellar, a large laundry area, two half bathrooms, a fully-stocked potions lab, and extensive storage areas. And, of course, Kreacher’s den.

 

Moving up to the second floor, at one end of the house, Dennis Creevey and Nigel Wolpert shared a room, while Luna Lovegood roomed with a Hufflepuff girl—a girl whose name Harry always had trouble remembering. And at the other end there was the library and an empty bedroom with two single beds.

 

The third floor of Grimmauld Place had mostly become Andromeda’s space. There the woman lived with her grandson, Teddy. It was also there that the woman stayed much of the time. Oh, and Harry’s personal office/study and a small library.

 

The fourth floor was Harry’s. He stayed in Sirius’ old room and kept Regulus’ room open to friends who wanted to visit, but not live in the house. Most of the time it was Ron and Hermione who used that room, but occasionally others.

 

It was the fifth floor that saw more changes than the rest of the house though. It had once been the attic, but Harry’d gutted it and turned it into more bedrooms—six of them. These were five single-bedded rooms, now belonging to Theo Nott, Katie Bell, George Weasley, Flora Carrow, and Alannis Sheppley, and a double room that was currently empty.

 

It was pretty much a full house! And everyone was currently in the dining room having their evening meal.

 

And so, when there was loud _CLANG_ at the front door, announcing to the entire household that someone was there, it was anyone’s guess who might be the one to open the door.

 

“Teddy! Come back,” Andromeda called out—to no avail.

 

**-oOo-**

 

Hefting Pansy up again and repositioning her—because she was quite a bit heavier than she appeared—Draco reached out and grabbed onto the silver, serpent-shaped knocker and banged it hard three times.

 

“Hold on, Pans,” he whispered, frowning down at his unconscious friend. She’d gone out, hoping to make a little money, only to not return. After a couple hours without hearing from her, Draco had dragged his sick arse up to go looking for his friend. He’d found her lying in an alley, bruised and bloody.

 

“Oh, come _on_ , Potter!” he growled in frustration—just as the door swung open to reveal a blue-haired boy.

 

“ _Hi_ ya!” the boy said excitedly—a huge grin on his face—before being scooped up and tossed over someone’s shoulder, the someone scolding him.

 

“Teddy, you know better than to open the door without permission,” the man said, giving the boy’s rear end a playful swat—which elicited a giggled “ _Put me_ down _, Harry_ ”—before he looked up. “Er... _Malfoy_?”

 

“Potter. Sorry to interrupt, but...I have an emergency here,” Draco said, nodding at what he was holding. “Can you help me?”

 

Frowning, Harry stared for a moment, then gave a stiff nod, then took a step backward and gestured for the blond to enter. Putting the boy down—Teddy, apparently—Potter knelt and took hold of the child’s upper arms. “Go get Beth...and Aunt Petunia. Got that?” he asked before releasing the boy.

 

The boy’s head bobbed, then he turned and ran down the hall and through a doorway.

 

“What’s going on, Malfoy?” Potter asked, turning back to him once the boy was gone. “How’d you know where I live?”

 

Draco once again shifted—to get a better grip on Pansy—then sighed. “Could we talk about that later? I’m sort of busy here.”

 

Frowning, the dark-haired man nodded. “Right. Who do you have there and what happened?”

 

“It’s Pansy. She’s been beaten up and...” his voice hitched, “I don’t know what else.”

 

“Harry? What’s going on?” came the voice of a small woman with short-ish dark hair. Behind her was another woman, taller and blonde, and looking frightened by his appearance. And behind the blonde woman was yet another woman; she was holding the blue-haired boy and...looked _very_ much like his insane aunt—Bellatrix Lestrange, who was _supposed to be_ dead.

 

“Um. This is...someone I went to Hogwarts with, Beth,” answered Potter. “Both of them are. Mal...er...Draco says Pansy is hurt.”

 

“Oh. The room on the second floor?” the woman—Beth—suggested.

 

Potter nodded. “Yeah, that’s fine. The only other available room isn’t very big and...it’s too far up.”

 

Beth nodded. “Petunia and I will go down to the kitchen to get what we need,” she said, then turned to the third woman standing there listening. “And, would you mind calling Saint Mungos...let Benji know I may need some help here?” That woman—the one who looked like Bellatrix Lestrange—nodded, then walked away. “Why don’t you take them up, Harry. We’ll be up as soon as possible.”

 

Frowning, Potter sighed, then started up the stairs. “This way, Malfoy. Come on,” he said as he went, saying nothing the rest of the way up. On the first floor landing, they crossed a hall and started up another staircase—not the same one—then, stopping on the second floor, Potter opened a door and motioned for Draco to enter. Draco immediately went to the closest bed and lowered Pansy to it, then went about loosening his coat and removing it before dropping it, and then himself, into the chair that sat beside the bed—then proceeded to cough. After which he lowered his head to his hands.

 

“You okay, Malfoy?” Potter asked him.

 

Without looking up, Draco snorted. “Do I _look_ all right, Potter?”

 

Potter harrumphed, but moved on.

 

“Sorry about the single beds,” the dark-haired man said, still standing in the doorway. “I suppose we could transfigure them into a double if you’d prefer.”

 

Draco frowned with confusion, then looked up. “Pansy and I aren’t... _a couple_.”

 

“Oh. Sorry. I just...assumed.”

 

Draco scoffed, fully intending a cutting retort about idiotic people and assumptions, then he halted himself and dropped his head back into it hands.

 

And then in walked the two women who’d been downstairs in the foyer. Quickly, they removed Pansy’s coat, then started taking off the rest of her clothing, so that they could examine her. And bathe her, Draco hoped.

 

“Um. I’ll just...step outside,” Potter mumbled, then disappeared.

 

There was blood everywhere, which was being gently wiped away by the one Potter had called Petunia while the other—apparently Beth—did the examining.

 

“We’ll have to replace these,” the blonde woman said, eyeing Pansy’s horribly filthy clothing, obviously repulsed.

 

The dark-haired woman shook her head. “No, I’m sure someone can get the blood out,” she said as she continued to examine Pansy’s prone figure.

 

The blonde woman’s face pinched with disgust, but she piled Pansy’s bloody clothing on a towel, then wrapped them up. _Petunia_ , Draco reminded himself.

 

“It appears she’s been violated,” the woman called Beth said, her voice hushed, causing Draco to let out a hiss of anger; just because they’d been...prostituting themselves out to make money, it didn’t give someone the right to force himself upon her.

 

“Why aren’t you healing her?” he asked, frustrated.

 

“Because we’re not witches, dear,” Beth said. “But don’t you worry, her wounds appear to be superficial. Physically, she’ll recover.”

 

Draco frowned. _Muggles? What the_ fuck _is going on here?!_ Nodding, Draco turned and walked out into the hallway.

 

“ _Potter_!” he hissed, closing the door, then swinging around to face his school rival—but then he halted; his aunt Bella look-a-like was coming up the stairs, nearly making him panic.

 

“Everything all right, Harry?” the woman asked, her eyes going between the two men.

 

“Um. I was just going to ask Malfoy,” said Potter, causing the woman’s eyes to turn on him.

 

Frowning, Draco looked at her in horror.

 

“Oh. I’m sorry. I sometimes forget how much I look like her,” she said. “I’m not Bellatrix, Draco. I’m your other aunt. Andromeda. I suppose your mother didn’t mention me all that often.”

 

Draco shook his head. “Ahh. No. Not so much,” he said, trying hard to not show his discomfiture.

 

His Aunt Andromeda laughed. It was a nice sound, quite _unlike_ his aunt Bella’s crazed cackle had been.

 

“It’s nice to meet you, Draco,” she said, holding out a delicate hand to him.

 

Nodding, he took her hand. “Likewise.”

 

“I’m just sorry it’s under such poor circumstances,” his aunt said. “How’s your girlfriend?”

 

“Friend. Pansy’s just a friend,” he corrected. “And...I don’t know.” Then turning, he glared at Harry Potter. “Can you tell me why there are _Muggles_ in that room tending to Pansy?”

 

Potter rolled his eyes. “You haven’t changed a bit, have you, Malfoy?!” the dark-haired man snapped. “I’ll have you know that Elizabeth Ellsworth is a _fine_ nurse. Parkinson couldn’t _be_ in better hands.”

 

Draco scoffed. “Oh, well, I think maybe she _could_ be. We could, you know, call a witch or wizard with some, you know, _healing_ abilities, and not have some random _Muggle_ in there with Pansy!”

 

“First, I think you would have _called_ a ‘witch or wizard’ instead of coming _here_ if that were an option for you and...second, Beth’s not some _random_ Muggle,” growled Potter. “She’s—”

 

“And why _exactly_ do you have Muggles in your house anyway?” Draco interrupted. “They _clearly_ know about magic. Does the Ministry know you’ve broken the secrecy statute?”

 

“Yes, actually, the Ministry _does_ know. And...we haven’t...not really. Beth is married to a wizard and Petunia is...my aunt, so...maybe you could just stop running your mouth!”

 

Opening his mouth to retort, Draco was halted by a not-so-subtle clearing of a throat.

 

“All right, boys. I can see there’s a little tension between the two of you. I’ve heard about this...this thing you two do, but I didn’t realize it was so... _brutal_. Anyway, this isn’t the time,” Andromeda said, waving her hands as if physically trying to stop their bickering. “Harry, darling, I’ll handle this if you’d like to return to the dinner table. Maybe you could bring the others up to speed on our new houseguests?”

 

Still frowning, Potter nodded, flashed him another glare, then turned and started down the stairs.

 

“And Draco,” the woman continued, “you’re going to have to get over your aversion to Muggles if you’re going to stay here. _No_!” she said when he opened his mouth to argue. “There’ll be no protests about it. This is Harry’s house and he’s been willing to help anyone who happens by. And I mean _anyone_. You’re lucky, you know...I’ve heard about the strife between you two. Not exaggerated _at all_ , is it?”

 

Draco frowned, then shook his head. “No. We pretty much hated each other in school.”

 

“Hmm. Well, let me just tell you this. Harry doesn’t _hate_ anyone, so you need to let go of the past, young man. Can you do that?”

 

Swallowing, Draco nodded. He would certainly have to try. “Yes, ma’am.”

 

With a smile, Andromeda reached out and pulled Draco into her arms, but quickly released him. “I’m so glad, dear, but...there’ll be no calling me _ma’am_ ,” she said. “I’m your aunt and I’d like that title to be used.”

 

“I can definitely do that, Aunt ‘dromeda,” Draco readily agreed—and it felt nice...knowing he had a loving relative.

 

“ _Ahh_. That sounds nice,” she said, as if reading his mind. “It is, after all, the first time ever that anyone’s called me aunt.”

 

Draco smiled.

 

“Now, your friend Pansy _is_ in good hands, so please relax,” Andromeda said. “And, you look like you could use a shower and a meal.”

 

Draco nodded. “You have _no_ idea.”

 

“So, why don’t you go in and shower, then come down to the dining room. It’s on the ground floor at the opposite end of the hall to the front door.”

 

“Oh. I don’t have a change of clothes,” Draco protested, rubbing his face exhaustedly—then he made an embarrassing admission. “And I...I don’t have my wand, so I can’t Scourgify what I’m wearing.”

 

Andromeda pursed her lips. “Not to worry, dear,” she said, patting his chest. “Just go in and shower and I’ll make sure you have something clean to put on when you’re finished.”

 

Draco nodded. “Thank you.”

 

“No need to thank me. That’s what family is for. Now, go on.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Harry Potter’s Home for the Wayward Witch or Wizard...and the occasional Muggle who’s in the know!**

 

**-oOo-**

Here’s the next bit...

 

**-oOo-**

**Chapter Two**

**-oOo-**

 

By the time Draco had finished showering, the two women taking care of Pansy had vacated the room—much to Draco’s relief. He didn’t like it— _at all_ —that Muggles had seen to his friend, but...what choice did he have at this juncture?

 

Towel wrapped around his slender waist—well, _skinny_ , really—Draco stepped out of the bathroom and walked to the bed next to Pansy’s. His clothing had been laid there, freshly cleaned and neatly folded—with a note on them instructing him to take the healing potions that were sitting in phials on the bedside table.

 

After reading the note, Draco glanced at the potions—which looked perfectly normal—then quickly took them and _instantly_ felt better. It was _such_ a relief to feel, not just better or normal, but... _good_. After that he put on his clothing, glad to be back in something clean. Sadly, it had been a while.

 

His next thought was Pansy. Sitting on the side of her bed, he reached out and ran his fingers over her face. She was still unconscious, but she too looked clean and at peace. And her facial bruising seemed to be gone. Thankful for that too, he leaned in and placed a light kiss on her forehead, then got up and left the room.

 

**-oOo-**

 

“ _Merlin_ , Andromeda, it’s not like I won’t let him stay. You know me better than that,” Harry said. “I’m just saying that I don’t trust him.”

 

“I understand that, Harry...you and Draco have quite a history, or so I’m told. But, my nephew has been through a lot,” the older woman said. “Can you imagine being raised by Lucius Malfoy?”

 

Harry snorted. “He’s not the only one who had things tough growing up, you know,” he said—then glanced over at his aunt; her head was bent down in shame. “I...ahh...I’m sorry, Aunt Petunia.”

 

The blonde woman’s lips thinned, then she looked up from her plate and at her nephew. “It’s quite all right, Harry. I know the mistakes I made hurt you. All I can say now is that _I’m_ sorry.”

 

Harry sighed. “I know. Still.” Then he looked at Andromeda—then at the rest of those sitting at the table listening. Part of everyone living under one roof was that they all knew about each other’s pasts. “Okay. So, like I told you, we have two additions to the household. Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson. And we’re all going to be nice. _All_ of us.”

 

Most nodded. Harry didn’t often put his foot down, but when he did...

 

“So...now we have two _more_ snakes,” George Weasley said quietly, not looking at those he was talking to. “Brilliant.”

 

Dennis Creevey grinned. “We already had three, George...what’s two more?”

 

“Four,” Andromeda corrected with a smile. “We had _four_ former Slytherin students prior to adding my nephew Draco and Miss Parkinson.”

 

“That’s right, _you_ were one too,” said Dennis, nodding. “I seem to excel at forgetting that.”

 

George glanced up at Andromeda, then frowned—then looked over at the doorway, where Draco Malfoy was now standing. At first the blond man didn’t say anything, but he was quickly noticed by Teddy.

 

“ _Draco_!” the boy called out exuberantly. “You should come sit next to me. I’m your cousin, you know?”

 

“First cousin once removed, actually,” Andromeda corrected, “but whatever, right?”

 

Smiling tentatively at his aunt, Draco glanced at his cousin and the empty chair next to the boy, then started forward. Sitting, he pulled his cloth napkin from the table to his lap and looked at the vast array of food on the table—it resembled Hogwarts!—then brought his eyes up to meet Harry’s, who, strangely enough, wasn’t seated at the head of the table despite this being _his_ house. In fact, no one was at either end of the table.

 

“Thank you, Potter, for allowing Pansy and me to come into your home,” he said formally. “It is very kind of you.”

 

Harry eyed him, then nodded. “Just try to get along with everyone, Malfoy,” the dark-haired man said as he lifted a glass of what appeared to be Firewhisky to his mouth. “Would you care for a drink with your meal?”

 

“Um. Yes, thank you,” the blond responded politely. “I’d prefer wine if it’s available.”

 

“Of course,” Harry said, his eyes going to the door. “Debby, would you mind bringing in a few more bottles of wine? Um. How about a Chardonnay, a Merlot, and that Moscato that my aunt likes so much,” he said, his eyes going to Petunia, who looked up and smiled.

 

Nodding vigorously, a house-elf in a blue gingham dress popped out of the room, but quickly reappeared with three bottles of wine.

 

“Debby has brought you the wine, Mr. Potter, sir,” she said, then looked at Draco. “Which would you like, sir?”

 

Taken slightly aback—because he was surprised to find out Potter had a house-elf—Draco just stared for a moment. Then, recovering, he answered. “The Merlot would be nice. Thank you,” he added, once the blue-clad house-elf had finished.

 

_Clearly, Potter didn’t_ own _the prettily dressed creature._

 

“It’s nice to see your manners have improved,” said Harry once the elf had gone.

 

Draco snorted. “Yours haven’t though, I see,” the blond said, nodding at Potter’s elbows...which were on the table.

 

Frowning, Harry sat back in his chair and glared at his new houseguest. He was just about to speak—throw out some scathing remark—when a throat cleared.

 

“So, Draco...how is Pansy doing?” Theodore Nott asked from several seats down.

 

Draco blinked, surprised; he’d not noticed his old dormmate sitting at the table. “I am told that she’ll recover,” he said, nodding his head at the two women who’d helped with Pansy. “Thank you both kindly.”

 

Petunia nodded, but didn’t respond otherwise—but Beth did. “You are quite welcome, dear. My husband works at St. Mungos; he’ll visit her when he returns home later on. Apparently it was busy there today and he couldn’t rush home when we owled him. But Pansy will be fine, I promise you. She’s resting peacefully.”

 

Draco nodded, then took a bite of his food. “My compliments to the chef,” he said. There was _no way_ the house-elf had prepared this meal he’d decided after several bites. House-elf cooking was decent enough, but always seemed to taste the same. To him anyway.

 

“Why, thank you,” Harry said with a smirk, his green eyes twinkling.

 

“ _You_ cooked this?” Draco asked, his eyebrows raising in surprise.

 

“Yep.”

 

“We all take turns in the kitchen, Draco,” Andromeda informed her nephew. “That way no one is stuck cooking for so many every day.”

 

“Yeah, but Harry’s the best,” Teddy announced, causing everyone to laugh. Most of the people living in Harry’s house were pure-bloods and it seemed like most pure-bloods had servants and/or house-elves—meaning, they didn’t do much cooking for themselves...or others.

 

“Harry’s had a lot of practice though,” a man with darkish blond hair added, smiling at the blue-haired boy—then frowning when he noticed Harry’s aunt’s blush.

 

Quickly swallowing what was in his mouth, Harry spoke to cover his aunt’s obvious discomfiture. “Malfoy, this is my cousin, Dudley. Dudley, this is Draco Malfoy,” he introduced. “A classmate of ours.”

 

Dudley gave a small wave and Draco nodded politely.

 

“We’ll slip you into the schedule at the end of next week, Malfoy,” Harry went on. “But you should probably come down to the kitchen before that to get acclimated, yeah?”

 

Draco frowned. He had zero experience or knowledge in the ways of kitchens and cooking. “All right,” he answered—trying to hide his nervousness.

 

“You’ll learn fast, darling,” Andromeda said encouragingly, then took a sip of wine.

 

Dudley nodded. “True that. I cook a pretty mean meal, if I do say so myself,” he said. “Thanks to Harry.”

 

Everyone nodded.

 

Draco’s eyes went around the table, then settled on Theo. “Potter has you cooking as well.”

 

Theo laughed. “I’m not half bad, if I do say so myself.”

 

“Hmm.”

 

**-oOo-**

 

After their meal, everyone at the table dispersed, leaving the clean-up to the house-elves—apparently Potter had several of them working for him. _Who knew_!—and went upstairs to the drawing room. Draco was informed that dessert would be served there, but he decided he’d like to retire instead; it had been a long and trying day and all he _really_ wanted to do was to check on Pansy, then crawl into a warm, dry, and _clean_ bed and sleep for about a week. Maybe even a month. And so he went upstairs to the room he was sharing with his friend.

 

But when he arrived at his assigned room there was already someone else there.

 

Standing in the doorway for a second, Draco frowned at the man with graying hair who was sitting on the side of Pansy’s bed—then cleared his throat to get the man’s attention.

 

Looking up, the man smiled. He was a kind-looking gentleman who appeared to be in his late forties, possibly early fifties.

 

“Hello there, young man,” the man said. “I’m Benjamin Ellsworth, the resident Healer at Harry’s House.”

 

Closing the door quietly, Draco slowly approached. “Hello,” he said, then nodded at Pansy. “How is she?”

 

The older man sighed. “She will survive, but...I don’t recommend any sexual activity for the time being,” he said pointedly.

 

Draco frowned. “Pansy and I are...just friends, Healer Ellsworth, so there will be no... _activity_.”

 

The older man smiled. “Oh. Well, that’s good. And please, call me Benjamin or Ben...we’re all family here at Harry’s place.”

 

Draco nodded. “Thank you...for helping my friend.”

 

“It’s my job, son.”

 

Draco attempted a smile—a tiny one—as he dropped into the chair next to Pansy’s bed and studied the man hovering over her.

 

“Now, my wife, Beth, told me you were ill as well,” the man continued. “You took the potions that were left for you though, yes?”

 

Draco nodded again. “Yes, sir...Benjamin, I did.”

 

“How long had you been ill?”

 

Draco shrugged. “About a week. I think.”

 

“And how long were you two living on the streets?”

 

Draco bit his lip. He didn’t want to say, but...was it _that_ obvious that he and Pansy were homeless? They’d _tried_ to stay clean.

 

“Don’t be embarrassed, son, you’re not the only ones who’ve fallen on hard times,” the Healer said. “My wife and I lost everything in the war as well.”

 

“Bet you didn’t deserve it though,” Draco whispered.

 

“Well no,” Ben said quietly, “but...well, who actually _deserves_ it?”

 

Draco frowned. “Do you know who I am?”

 

The Healer smiled sadly. “Yes, Mr. Malfoy, I _do_ ,” he said. “And, despite everything, I don’t think you deserve what the Ministry has done to you and your family. Well, possibly your father deserved what he got, but not you and your mother.”

 

Shocked, all Draco could do was stare.

 

“Now, how long have you and your friend been homeless?”

 

Rubbing a hand over his face, Draco sighed. “I’m not really sure. It’s been a while,” he answered. “When we could scrounge up the money we stayed in various places; twice at the Leaky. That’s why Pansy was out... _doing what she was_ ,” he said, whispering the last bit. “Because I was sick, she wanted to get me a warm place for the night...and a hot meal.” His eyes went to his unconscious friend, then filled with tears—which he tried to hide by turning his face away. “I shouldn’t have let her. I should have—”

 

“Now, now, what’s done is done, son. You’re both here and safe now, so...” The older man shrugged. “So, there will be no more of _that_...for either of you,” he went on, referring to Pansy’s activities and making it known that he was aware that Draco had been doing it too. “Tomorrow I would like to examine you as well...to make sure you haven’t picked up anything.”

 

Draco blushed.

 

“Muggle illnesses can be particularly nasty on witches and wizards if not treated properly,” he said. “We don’t seem to have the same immunities as they do...mostly because we keep ourselves separated. And vice versa.”

 

Draco frowned. “But...there are Muggles living here. Are we in danger?” he asked with obvious worry.

 

Benjamin shook his head. “No, son, we’re safe. As are they,” he said. “Now. Tonight, I’d like you to rest.”

 

Draco nodded. “I _am_ exhausted.”

 

“I’m not surprised. The potions healed the cold you had, but the elements have worn you down. I’d like you to stay in bed as much as possible tomorrow. I’ll come see you both around ten, then I’ll have to go to work, but Beth will check on you periodically. She’s a great caregiver. And I promise you, you have nothing to worry about...her being a Muggle and all.” He winked.

 

Draco nodded again and tried to smile.

 

“I mean it. Other than using the toilet, you are to stay in bed!” the Healer demanded, standing. “Miss Parkinson as well. Though...I don’t imagine she’ll be waking until late afternoon tomorrow; I’ve given her a sedative.”

 

“Thank you, Benjamin,” the blond said, standing as well and holding out his hand. The Healer took it and shook firmly, then pointed.

 

“In bed,” he said. “Now.”

 

Draco couldn’t help but chuckle, but he moved, as quickly as he was able, to the second single bed in the room and started unbuttoning his shirt.

 

Watching for a moment, the older man pulled out his wand and lowered the flames of the fire, then headed out of the room. “Sleep well, Draco.”

 

**-oOo-**

 

Harry spent a short time in the drawing room with everyone else that night, but when Andromeda left to take Teddy up to bed, Harry soon left too. After pausing on the landing outside Malfoy’s room—for just a second, because he couldn’t help himself—Harry continued on, stopping by to say good night to his godson and read him a quick story, then heading up to his own room, presumably to sleep.

 

But after showering, dressing for bed, and settling _into_ his bed, Harry had a hard time actually falling asleep...because all he seemed able to do was think about the blond man two floors down. In the years since the war—and subsequent trials—Harry’d had little time to think about Draco Malfoy. But now that he was here, in Harry’s house, the dark-haired man couldn’t seem to get him out of his head.

 

“Damn it!” he cursed as he rolled over in bed, covering his head with a pillow and squeezing his eyes closed. The _last_ thing he needed now was to be distracted by the gray-eyed git with whom he’d gone to school. “Fucking Malfoy!”

 

After what seemed like hours, Harry _finally_ drifted off—only to dream about the other man.

 

Not that he completely remembered the dream come morning. In fact, he hardly remembered it at all. When he first opened his eyes there was a glimmer of memory, but then, with a frown, Harry got up and shuffled to the toilet to relieve himself, then threw on some clothes and headed down to the kitchen.


	3. Chapter 3

**Harry Potter’s Home for the Wayward Witch or Wizard...and the occasional Muggle who’s in the know!**

 

**-oOo-**

Okay, I’m going to work (in a bit), but I thought I’d post the next bit first. I’d like to see some action while I’m gone. *hopes people are reading and enjoying*

**-oOo-**

**Chapter Three**

**-oOo-**

 

The next day seemed to pass quickly. Draco woke late, after sleeping soundly, then was visited by the healer again—and declared healthy—then ate the breakfast that sat on his bedside table under a warming charm. He’d eaten while the healer gave Pansy a quick once over, then got up and showered once the older man had left. After that, he’d gotten back into bed and, surprisingly, drifted back to sleep again...waking late in the afternoon when he heard Pansy’s frightened voice.

 

“ _Draco_?” she whined fearfully from her bed.

 

“I’m here, Pans,” he said, instantly rolling from his bed and going to her. Sitting on her bed, he lay down and pulled his friend into his arms.

 

“I t-thought I w-was alone,” she said, shivering though the room was toasty warm and flickering with fire light. The curtains were drawn, so it was fairly dark, hence her lack of ability to see—not to mention the fact that she _wouldn’t_ know where she was since she’d never _been_ there before.

 

Draco shook his head. “No, you’re not alone,” he said, squeezing her, then kissing her forehead reassuringly. “I’m _soooo_ sorry, Pansy. I never should have let you go off like that.”

 

Heaving a shuddering sob, Pansy clung to Draco and he let her cry until she didn’t seem to have any more tears left to shed...until her grip loosened and she shifted to snuggle into him. He rolled then, to his back, pulling her so that her head rested on his chest.

 

“You okay?”

 

She nodded. “Think so, but...where _are_ we?”

 

Draco snorted. “You are _never_ going to believe this, but...” He hesitated, knowing that Pansy was somewhat afraid of the man whose house they were in. “We’re...ahh...at _Potter’s_ house.”

 

Gasping, Pansy pushed herself up and stared down at her blond friend. “What the _fuck_ are we doing at Potter’s?” she asked as she rolled away from Draco and started to get out of bed—only to instantly find herself crumpling to the ground...and Draco kneeling beside her, lifting her up and placing her back on the bed.

 

“Easy, Pans, you’ve been through a lot,” he said to her. “Healer Ellsworth said—”

 

Slapping his hands away, Pansy seemed to realize her state of undress. “Where are my clothes?” she quickly asked, folding her arms over her flannel-covered chest. “Merlin, Draco, what old lady’s pyjamas am I wearing and...where the _fuck_ are my clothes?!” she burst, glancing around. The room was barely lit, with only a fire burning for light. “You know I only have that one set of barely passable robes, Draco.” She was whinging. She knew it, but... _what_ was he thinking?!

 

Draco chuckled. “Relax, Pans,” he said, taking her shoulders and easing her back into the inviting bed. “You need to rest. The healer said—”

 

“ _Healer_?!” she burst, her eyes wide as she stared up at her friend from her back.

 

The blond nodded as he tried to smooth the covers over his friend. “Yes. Potter has a healer living in his house and the man came in and took a look at you. Healed you all up apparently, but he said you were to rest today. That you’d be weak until you got some sleep and a few good meals in you.”

 

“Potter’s living with a healer? So...he’s gay then?” Pansy asked, a confused look on her face.

 

Draco laughed quietly. Leave it to Pansy to only mention what she wanted to talk about. “No. I mean...well, I don’t know whether he’s gay or not, but...no, Potter’s not living with the healer. The house is Potter’s and he seems to take in those in need. Are you _at all_ surprised?”

 

Closing her eyes, Pansy shook her head, then pinched the bridge of her turned up nose and looked at her friend. “Not really.”

 

“Anyway, the healer and his wife and children live here,” Draco went on. “Along with several others, including Theo.”

 

Pansy’s eyes flashed. “Theo!” she burst. “Theo’s staying here?”

 

Draco nodded.

 

“At Potter’s house?”

 

“Yeah. Like mine, his father’s in Azkaban and all his family’s possessions were confiscated after the war. And, as you know, his mother is dead.”

 

Pansy nodded. “What about his aunt?”

 

Draco shrugged. “You know she was a supporter of...the Dark L-lord,” the blond stammered. “She didn’t get sent to prison, because the Ministry never found anything on her, but...well, you know Theo never liked her.”

 

“I didn’t know that, actually,” she said. “I hardly knew Theo, Draco. He was such a... _loner_.”

 

“More like private. And that’s because he wanted _nothing_ to do with anyone who _might_ be involved with...” Draco let his words trail off, because he knew that Pansy understood.

 

“So, why’d you bring me _here_ , Draco?” the dark-haired young woman whined, tears in her eyes. “Of all places.”

 

“We needed help and I couldn’t think of anywhere else to go,” he explained, tears filling his own eyes. “I knew we’d be turned away at St. Mungos and...you needed help. Potter let us in with almost no question and we’ve been helped.”

 

“Even though he hates me?”

 

“I have been kindly informed by my very own aunt that Potter doesn’t hate _anyone_.”

 

“Your _aunt_?” Pansy queried fearfully, looking ready to bolt.

 

“Not the dead one...obviously. Mother has another sister and apparently she’s been residing with Potter. She and her grandson, actually...who _also_ happens to be Potter’s _godson_...live here too. It’s all about bit confusing.”

 

Pansy snorted. “So, _your_ cousin is _Potter’s_ godson?”

 

Draco nodded. “My cousin’s son, yes...but evidently so.”

 

“It’s like you two are related. You and Potter, I mean.”

 

The blond scoffed. “No, it’s really not.”

 

Pansy started to laugh, but when there was a knocking on the door, she shrunk back into the bed.

 

“Come in,” Draco called out—then smiled when Beth entered the room.

 

“Lunch’s ready. I didn’t think either of you would be up to coming down to the table, so...I brought it up,” the tray-carrying woman said. “How are you both feeling this afternoon?”

 

“I’m well, Beth, thank you,” said Draco.

 

“Excellent,” she said with a smile, then looked at the blond’s cowering friend. “Pansy?”

 

Pansy hardly moved. “I’m...ahh...fine. I think.”

 

“Good. I’m Beth, by the way. My husband is the healer who examined and healed you. He says you’re going to be fine. I—”

 

“ _Mummy_?” came a voice from the doorway, causing them all to turn and look. “Sissy’s being mean.”

 

“I am not!” another child protested.

 

“Yes. You _are_ ,” a third child insisted. It was Teddy. “Cousin Draco, would you come read to us?”

 

“ _Teddy_! I told you not to disturb Draco and his friend!” a woman’s voice from the hallway snapped—then she appeared behind the squabbling children.

 

“I wasn’t disturbing them, Grandma,” the boy protested, looking up at his grandmother. “ _Honest_ , I wasn’t...was I, Cousin Draco?” he asked, turning to look at the blond man, his turquoise hair instantly turning platinum blond.

 

Draco just frowned—as did Pansy—but didn’t say anything, so the boy continued.

 

“I was just supporting Robbie,” the boy went on, looking back at the older woman, “because Becca was being mean to him again.”

 

“I was _not_ mean,” the girl argued tearfully. “They were leaving me out... _again_.”

 

“Teddy, you can see your cousin later. Right now he and his friend need to rest, so I want you three to clear out and get along,” Andromeda Tonks said sternly. “And, if anyone is excluded, then the _three_ of you will be separated for the remainder of the day...and throughout tomorrow, if I see fit.”

 

The three children groaned, but nodded, knowing that the older woman meant business.

 

“Now, go on,” she said, making a shooing motion, then pointing toward the stairwell.

 

Pouting, the children marched out.

 

“Sorry about that, dear,” Andromeda said to her nephew.

 

Beth sighed. “Thank you, Andromeda,” she said before looking back at their houseguests. “The three of them together can sometimes be a bit much. My apologies.”

 

Draco shrugged.

 

Coming into the room, Draco’s aunt looked at his friend. “How are you doing, dear?”

 

“I think I’m fine, thank you,” Pansy said quietly—nervously.

 

“Oh good,” Andromeda said with a kind smile. “Maybe tomorrow you’ll feel up to joining the house for a meal or two.”

 

Pansy nodded, but she didn’t feel too sure about joining anyone—especially Potter—tomorrow or anytime soon. “Maybe,” she said quietly.

 

Andromeda continued to smile. “It’s up to you, dear, but...we don’t bite. I promise you that. You can check with Draco; he dined with us last night.”

 

Pansy’s eyes went to her friend and he nodded. “There was a little snarking, but no biting, I assure you.”

 

Pansy snorted, then looked at the two women. “I think I’d like to bathe, if...if that’s all right.”

 

Beth nodded. “Certainly. But I don’t think you should do so alone. I’m a nurse, so I would be happy to assist you.”

 

Pansy frowned, then glanced at Draco.

 

“Medi-witch,” he translated, not knowing how to explain—or if he should.

 

Nodding, Pansy looked back at he woman. “Yes, if you don’t mind, I’d really like that. I already tried to get up once and...fell over,” she admitted—then blushed fiercely.

 

Beth looked worried. “I’ll let Benji know when he gets home tonight, but...no more getting out of bed without assistance, young lady.”

 

Pansy nodded again, squirming a bit because she suddenly realized she needed to use the toilet.

 

“I’ll go get some towels and be right back,” Beth said, then turned and left, taking Andromeda with her.

 

“There’s more going on here, isn’t there, Draco?” Pansy asked as soon as the women had closed the door again.

 

“What _ever_ do you mean?” he asked, trying to keep his face impassive.

 

“ _Nurse_? What the fuck is _that_?”

 

Draco chuckled. “I’m not sure you’d really like to know.”

 

Pansy pursed her lips and glared.

 

“All right, but remember...you asked for the information.”

 

She just looked up at him expectantly.

 

“Beth is a nurse, which is...theMuggleequivalenttoaMediwitch,” he said quickly. “Or something like that. I think. I’m not one hundred percent sure though.”

 

“What was that? Did I hear _Muggle_ in there?” she asked with a frown.

 

Biting his lip, Draco nodded. “Yes. As it turns out, there are a _few_ Muggles living in the house.”

 

“ _What_?” the prone woman hissed.

 

“Do I really need to repeat myself?”

 

Her eyes huge, Pansy shook her head. “No. What I meant was... _Why_?

 

Draco sighed. “I have _no_ idea,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “Well, I know the reasons I was given and...they do seem to make sense, but... _Merlin_ , Pansy, _nothing_ really makes sense anymore.”

 

As if he knew she needed him, Draco lay down beside his friend again and held her—until Beth returned to help her into the tub. Draco ended up carrying her into the bathroom, then leaving the two women alone.

**-oOo-**

 

After her bath—and a long nap—Pansy felt a hundred and ten percent better. Well, maybe not _perfect_ , but close. Better than she had in a while, at least. But she was still nervous when Draco suggested they head down to the dining room to have some supper.

 

“W-with e-everyone,” she stammered. “I don’t know, Draco.”

 

“I’ll carry you down the stairs,” he offered, smiling encouragingly. “The food is good and you could use a decent meal.”

 

“Yes, I could, but.... Couldn’t we just...you know, eat up here?” she asked, her tone somewhat begging. “I’m not really feeling up to seeing everyone just yet.”

 

“Hmm.”

 

“What... _hmm_?” she queried, confused. And annoyed.

 

Draco shrugged. “I don’t know. Nothing, I guess. We can eat here. I sort of figured that would be your preference, so earlier I asked my aunt to send something up.”

 

Sighing her relief, Pansy smiled.

 

But her smile didn’t last long, because there was a tapping on the door. Pansy cringed and, obviously assuming it was his aunt, Draco called out. “Come in.”

 

But it wasn’t Andromeda. Instead, it was none other than Harry Potter.

 

“I have your supper,” he said. He didn’t smile at them, but neither did he look unpleasant. In fact, Potter looked almost cheerful, as if it didn’t bother him at all that they were in his home and that he was bringing them their dinner—that he was _serving_ them.  “Everything all right?” their host asked.

 

Tentatively, Pansy nodded, then glanced at Draco.

 

“Yes, Potter...we’re fine,” said Draco as he lowered himself to sit beside his friend. Pansy instantly grabbed his hand and watched as he looked up at the dark-haired man. “I was trying to convince Pansy to come down, but she doesn’t feel up to it.”

 

Pansy glared at the blond. “Shut it, Draco!” she growled—then glared some more when he reached up and tweaked her nose.

 

This made the dark-haired man snicker, which caused Pansy to turn her glare on him. “What’s so fucking funny, Potter?! she snarled.

 

“Oh. Um. Nothing,” the man said. But he was clearly still amused. Then, turning his eyes on the tray in his hands, he said. “Um. _Food_ ,” he said, nodding down at the tray he held, then stepping forward and handing it to Draco. “I’m going down to eat now, but I wanted to bring this up first.”

 

“Where’s my aunt?” Draco asked.

 

“Teddy was having a bit of a meltdown,” Potter responded. “She had to deal with that. So...ahh...there’ll be dessert and drinks in the drawing room after the meal. Around seven. It’s our usual evening routine. You two are welcome to join us...if you want.”

 

Pansy frowned and looked at Draco...and Draco just looked at the dark-haired man standing in front of them.

 

Potter shrugged. “Or not,” he said, looking a touch irritated. “Anyway, that’s where we’ll all be...just in case either or both of you are interested. Looks like you’re not though.” And then he was gone.

**-oOo-**

 

“I didn’t mean to be rude, Draco,” Pansy whined, yawning.

 

Draco shrugged. Pansy had been fairly quiet while they were eating, but now she just looked tired. “You were fine, Pans. Potter’s a git any way you look at it.”

 

“No. He was fine.” Yawn. “I was rude. It’s just...hard _not_ to be with him.”

 

Draco chuckled. Sitting down on the side of his friend’s bed, he ran his fingers across her forehead and pushed a few stands of hair off her face.

 

“I was rude and he’s been nothing but nice to us,” she said tearfully. “ _Us_ , Draco...his schoolhouse rivals.”

 

Using his thumb, Draco caught a tear as it rolled down Pansy’s cheek, then leaned over and kissed her forehead. “You need sleep, Pansy. Everything will look better tomorrow.”

 

She nodded. With her eyes closed, she said, “You’re a liar, but...” Yawn. “I’m too sleepy to argue.”

 

“That’s a first,” he said teasingly.

 

She opened her eyes and glared. Well, she tried to.

 

“Go to sleep, love,” he said, smoothing her dark hair back. Then, watching her eyes droop, Draco adjusted her blankets and slowly got up. He stared down at her for a minute or two—waiting for her breathing to even out—then frowned. He wasn’t ready for sleep himself, but... _what to do_? Then, spotting a bookcase, he went to see what Potter had there. A quick once-over proved there to be nothing interesting, but Draco knew there was no way he was going to fall asleep just yet...and so he headed for the door. Tentatively opening it and stepping out, the blond sighed and made his way to the drawing room—to face those who gathered there.


	4. Chapter 4

**Harry Potter’s Home for the Wayward Witch or Wizard...and the occasional Muggle who’s in the know!**

 

**-oOo-**

Here’s the next bit...

 

**-oOo-**

**Chapter Four**

**-oOo-**

 

Harry’d been in the drawing room for thirty minutes or so when Malfoy sauntered in. Well, he didn’t _saunter_ in so much as...slink in, Harry decided as he tried to watch the blond man—surreptitiously, of course—come in and glance around. Malfoy was immediately noticed and acknowledged by his own aunt and cousin. Andromeda and Teddy went straight over to him, Andromeda offering him a drink and/or some dessert and Teddy wanting to be picked up. Malfoy nodded politely to his aunt, but stared down at his cousin as if the boy were asking him to eat slugs. Seeing her nephew’s look of discomfiture, Andromeda directed her grandson to the dessert table. For a second, Teddy pouted—he must really want his cousin to pick him up, Harry thought—then the boy grinned, happy to be allowed another cookie.

 

Watching all this, Harry hid a smile and decided that Malfoy looked nervous. In days of old, he would have thought the blond was up to something, but...what could he _possibly_ be up to now?

 

Well, there were any number of things he _could_ be up to, but Harry didn’t really think he was. The state in which Malfoy and Parkinson had arrived the day before left no doubt in his mind that they were desperate. Of course, he’d have to watch the way he spoke to the other man, because he was _sure_ that Malfoy wouldn’t like being referred to as “desperate.” But then, who would, really?

 

“Harry. Be a dear and take this glass of wine over to Draco,” Andromeda said, bringing Harry out of his thoughts as she handed him a filled glass.

 

“W-what?”

 

“Oh, come now, dear, be a good host,” she said, managing to make her tone even, even though Harry felt like there was a reprimand in her words. She smiled warmly at him. “And here’s one for you as well. You might need it.” She chuckled.

 

Sighing, Harry took the second glass of wine and glanced over at Malfoy. “ _Why_ is he here again?” he asked, taking a rather large sip of his beverage.

 

Andromeda laughed again. She clearly understood that he was _trying_ to be funny...otherwise she would have scolded him in earnest. “Now, now, Harry,” she chided playfully, patting him lovingly on the shoulder. “This is a house for _any_ wayward witch or wizard. Your words, dear.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he said, taking another gulp from his glass. “I created the place. Remember?”

 

Andromeda just smiled. “I let Teddy have another cookie, to keep him out of Draco’s hair, but that’ll keep him up a bit longer...and make him ask for more stories at bedtime.”

 

Harry shrugged. “That’s fine. I’ll read him a couple extra.”

 

“You’re a very good godfather, Harry,” the older woman said. “Teddy and I are lucky to have you.”

 

Harry blushed. “Thank you.”

 

“Now, take that wine over to Draco...he looks thirsty. And be nice.”

 

Harry snorted—but did as he was bid.

**-oOo-**

 

Draco eyed Potter as he spoke with his aunt; Andromeda and the dark-haired man were obviously close and, for some reason, this caused a twinge of... _something_...to curl in the blond’s stomach. Andromeda had been more than kind to him—considering all she’d lost and _his_ family’s part in the war—but Potter made him a touch anxious. He wasn’t exactly polite—nor was he an arse, as Draco had expected—but his behavior was odd. It was just weird here.

 

After his aunt had walked off, leaving him standing there alone, Draco was joined by Theodore Nott, who was, strangely enough, rambling on about how wonderful it was living at _Harry’s House_. Draco wasn’t really listening even though he would like to know what Theo had been up to since Hogwarts. Theo had always been a bit of a loner—to use Pansy’s description—and so the fact that he was talking—quite a bit, actually—was something Draco felt he should be interested in. And he was. But that would have to wait until later. Right now, he needed to get himself acclimated.

 

And then, without Draco realizing it, Potter appeared at his side.

 

“Your aunt wanted me to give you this,” the dark-haired man said bluntly as he held out a glass of red wine.

 

Accepting the glass, Draco nodded. “Thank you, Potter,” he said politely. “You didn’t have to bring it over. I could have waited.”

 

Potter snorted. “You don’t know your aunt very well,” he said, taking a sip of his own drink, then nodding at Draco’s. “Andromeda pretty much ordered me to bring that over here.”

 

Under normal circumstances, Draco might have sneered—what right did _Potter_ have to tell him who he did or didn’t know?!—but the dark-haired man was right, he _didn’t_ know his aunt well.

 

“I’d like to change that,” he said quietly—honestly—his eyes following the woman who was now his mother’s only living sister. She’d gotten busy talking to someone else, but every once in a while she glanced over at him and smiled. She looked _so_ much like his aunt Bella and yet, so _very_ different. It was scary and reassuring at the same time.

 

“Do you guys do this every night?” he asked after a few moments, his eyes going back to the man standing in front of him. “It’s almost like a party in here.”

 

Potter shrugged, his lips quirking slightly. “Not _every_ night. But a lot of them, I guess. Sometimes the Knight Bus drops people off late, so someone has to be up to let them in. It’s not usually me, though...I’m an early riser, so I tend to try to get myself to bed early. The operative word being _try_ ,” he said, not elaborating further.

 

Draco’s eyes widened. “I didn’t take you for a morning person, Potter.”

 

The dark-haired man’s green eyes flashed, then narrowed. “You don’t know _anything_ about me, _Malfoy_ , now _do_ you?” he snapped, his face turning slightly red with obvious anger. Then he frowned and sighed. “I...um. That was rude. Sorry.”

 

Draco shrugged.

 

“So...um...if you’ll excuse me, I really should go over and prevent Teddy from eating any more dessert,” said Potter. “He’s already had too many sweets and that’s not good for bedtime.”

 

Draco nodded and watched him go, then realized he was standing there alone. At some point while he and Potter had been conversing, Theo had silently excused himself. Looking around, Draco found his former dorm mate talking to George Weasley. It seemed like an odd... _friendship_? Draco’s eyes then went to his young cousin. Potter practically had to peel the boy off the cookies. Or rather, he had to peel the cookies out of Teddy’s small hands. He had to be holding at least two or three of them in each hand—and he wasn’t _at all_ pleased that they were being taken away. By the look on the boy’s face, it looked like there might be another meltdown in the works.

 

But then the dark-haired man knelt down and spoke quietly—and Teddy was capable of listening, apparently; he nodded, glanced over at _him_ , then wiped the tears off his face and nodded again. And then Potter picked the boy up and headed back in Draco’s direction.

 

“Malfoy,” he said, “I’m going to take Teddy up and get him ready for bed. He’s asked if you’d like to join us for story time.”

 

Draco almost choked on his wine. He was quite surprised. He glanced at the child in Potter’s arms.

 

“Pwease, Cousin Draco,” Teddy begged, sniffling. “Tuck me in?”

 

“I...ahh.... Well, how could I say no to _that_ face,” Draco asked, nodding. “Sure, Teddy.”

 

Teddy smiled and clapped his hands, his hair instantly morphing from blue to platinum blond.

 

“Give us like twenty or so minutes though,” Potter said a bit stiffly, as if he didn’t really want Draco to join them for story time—which he probably didn’t. “He needs a bath,” he continued, “and sometimes that gets messy.”

 

Teddy groaned. “No bath. I _hate_ bath time.”

 

Potter rolled his eyes. “You say that every night, but you _love_ your baths.”

 

“Do not,” Teddy argued.

 

“Yes. You do!” the dark-haired man said as he shifted the boy and tossed him over his shoulder, effectively shutting the kid up—well, except for the giggles. “Twenty minutes, Malfoy. Fourth floor, on the left.”

 

Draco nodded; it would give him time to finish his wine...and maybe down another one. And check on Pansy. “Sure, Potter,” he said as he watched the other man walk off, Teddy hanging upside down over his shoulder, his now-black hair bouncing as he giggled.

**-oOo-**

 

“You are absolutely unbelievable, Tedster!” Harry teased as he carried the towel-clad, yet still dripping, boy from the bathroom and tossed him on the bed. “Pyjamas. Now.”

 

Teddy giggled, but struggled himself, still wet, into his sleeping clothes, then laughed some more when Harry picked up his towel and started rubbing his soaking wet hair dry.

 

“Haar- _ree_ ,” the boy called out from under the towel, “dry with magic.”

 

“What was that?” Harry asked while vigorously towel-drying his godson’s once again blue hair. “You’re mumbling, Teddy, I can’t understand you.”

 

Teddy tittered. “Not mum-bling,” he protested. “I said mag-gick!”

 

Harry chuckled. “Magic, you say?”

 

“Yes!”

 

“What do you _say_?” Harry asked, halting his hands and tossing the towel aside.

 

“ _Pwease_.”

 

Harry nodded. “All right.”

 

Pulling out his wand, he aimed it and said, “ _Evanesco_.”

 

Teddy clapped his hands. “Thank you, Harry.”

 

“Yeah, you’re welcome, Champ, but...look at what you did to me. You obliterated me. I’m _soaked_.”

 

Teddy did his best to put on an innocent look. “You’re _wet_ , Harry. Don’t know how _that_ happened.”

 

“You _are_ a mess, Potter,” a blond someone said from the doorway.

 

Both Harry and Teddy turned and looked at their intruder. Draco Malfoy was standing there leaning against the doorframe.

 

“ _Draco_!” Teddy squealed, launching himself across the room and at his cousin—who could do nothing, but gather the boy up and hold him.

 

“Okay then. I’ll go change. In bed, Runt,” Harry said, pointing as he walked toward his bathroom.

**-oOo-**

 

When Harry came out of his bathroom, he found Teddy tucked in and Malfoy lying, stretched out, on top of the covers. For a moment he just stood there staring at the scene. They were chatting, as if they had always known one another, and they looked...happy. Harry smiled. He could not help himself. It was nice to see Teddy happy—even if it _was_ Malfoy who’d put the smile on his face.

 

And that’s when they looked up—and saw Harry grinning like a loon.

 

“Looking better, Potter,” the blond said—then smirked. “Well...dry, at least.”

 

His smile fading, Harry felt...subconscious. Why was it that, with just a few words, Malfoy could reduce him to feeling things he didn’t want to feel? Glaring, he opened his mouth to say something scathing—something he knew he probably shouldn’t—but was cut off by Teddy. _Thank_ Merlin _for small favors...that come in the form of young godsons_ , Harry thought as he took a few steps forward.

 

“Come on, Harry. Crawl in,” the boy said as he sat up, pushed the blankets back, and patted the mattress beside him.

 

Harry smiled at Teddy and continued forward slowly—and pointedly ignored the blond man on his bed. He liked reading to the boy each night before bed and wasn’t going to let Malfoy ruin it. He _wasn’t_!

 

“Tonight I want to hear the one about Jack and the Beanstalk first,” Teddy requested.

 

Harry smiled. “All right,” he said. Picking up a thick children’s book off a shelf as he made his way to the bed, Harry flipped through it and, locating the correct story, plopped himself down on the bed and got comfortable. “Ready Freddy?”

 

Teddy giggled. “It’s _Te_ ddy.”

 

“That’s what I said,” Harry said, straight-faced.

 

Teddy shook his head. “No, uh-uh. You called me Freddy.”

 

Harry frowned. “I don’t think so,” he said, looking confused.

 

“Har- _ree_!”

 

Then, poking his godson in the belly, Harry grinned and said, “Are we going to read this story or not? Or did you just want to go to sleep.”

 

“No to sleep and yes to story,” replied Teddy simply. “And...you _did_ say Freddy. I hearded you.”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Tedicus.”

 

Teddy snorted. “You’re so _silly_ , Harry.”

 

Harry smiled, then noticed Malfoy watching them and cleared his throat. “Story?” he said to Teddy, though his eyes were still locked on the blond man’s.

 

Nodding, Teddy turned his head and said, “You should get under the blankets too, Cousin Draco. Harry keeps his room sort of cold at night. He says he sleeps better this way.”

 

“Hmm. Funny that, so do I,” Malfoy said, never taking his eyes off Harry’s. “What do you think, Potter? Should I get into your bed?”

 

Harry immediately blushed—which caused the blond’s eyes to twinkle—then he took a deep breath and bucked up some of Gryffindor’s renowned courage. “Make yourself comfortable, Malfoy,” he said challengingly.

 

For a second Malfoy just stared at him, his eyes narrowed—then the gray-eyed man gave a quick nod and moved to get into Harry’s bed.

**-oOo-**

Please point out glaring errors. Well, okay, minor typos too...as I absolutely HATE them! Thanks! And...well...is anyone READING this?!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. So, a "scheduled power outage" today, so I thought I'd get this posted before I CAN'T!!! Sooo annoying...my ONE day off this week and I'll have no power for most of the day! Here's to hoping the electric company works quickly. *sigh*
> 
> Also...comments please, so I know what you think! Thanks! <3

**-oOo-**

**Chapter Five**

**-oOo-**

 

_Long ago, there lived a poor woman and her son  
named Teddy_—

 

“It’s _Jack_ , Harry,” Teddy protested, giggling. “ _Jack_ and the Beanstalk, not _me_ and the Beanstalk.”

 

Placing his finger at his place on the book, Harry glanced at his godson and frowned. “Are you _sure_?”

 

Teddy nodded vigorously. “Yes.”

 

“Hmm. All right. If you’re sure.”

 

“I’m sure,” the boy said, then turned his head and looked at his cousin. “Harry always thinks I’m part of the fairytales, but I’m not.”

 

“Of course you’re not,” Draco said, trying to reassure the boy, then looking to Harry to continue.

 

_Long ago, there lived a poor woman and her son_  
named Jack. They had no money and no food, so the  
woman decided that they must sell their milking cow.

_The woman asked Jack to take the cow into town_  
and offer her for sale. On the road into town, Jack met  
a strange man who asked to buy the cow.

_“I will give you five magic beans for—_

“Wait,” Draco interrupted. “ _Magic_ beans?”

 

“Yes, Malfoy, Muggles have stories about magic too,” Harry snapped.

 

“Hmm.”

 

“They’re not _really_ magic, Cousin Draco,” Teddy added. “The man’s lying to Jack.” He then quickly turned and winked at Harry—who smiled.

 

Draco nodded. “Ahh. I see.”

 

“Can I continue, Malfoy?” Harry asked, irritated—and amused at the same time.

 

“You may certainly try, Potter,” drawled the gray-eyed man. “By all means.”

 

Harry huffed and looked back at the book.

_“I will give you five magic beans for your cow,” he  
said to Jack. “Do you know how many that is?”_

_“Two for each of my hands and one in my mouth!”  
answered Jack._

_“Right!” said the strange man. “Here are the beans.”  
So Jack traded the cow for the five magic beans._

 

Draco was frowning. “Why would he do that...trade his cow, their _only_ source of income, for five lousy beans...that aren’t really magic?”

 

Harry sighed. “He doesn’t know that, Malfoy,” he said, exasperatedly.

 

“Oh. Well, I think he’s an idiot,” the blond complained—then waved his hand. “Please continue though. This is mildly interesting.”

 

Harry rolled his eyes.

 

_When Jack returned home, he proudly told his mother  
of the good trade he had made._

_“You foolish boy!” she said, “now we will go hungry!”_  
And she threw the beans out the window, because she did  
not believe they were magic. She sent Jack to bed without  
any supper, even though there was nothing to eat anyway.

_The next morning, Jack awoke to find a large beanstalk_  
growing from the spot where the beans had fallen. It was  
so tall that it grew all the way to the sky!

 

“Hold on!” Malfoy cut in again. “So...the beans _are_ magic?”

 

Teddy giggled.

 

“I thought you said the man lied.”

 

“I...um...might have fibbed,” Teddy admitted.

 

Draco snorted. “Sneaky little shi...” He let his word trail off. “I...um...I bet you’re sorted into Slytherin.”

 

Teddy shook his head. “No. Uh-uh. I’m going to be in Hufflepuff like my mum,” he said adamantly. “Or maybe Gryffindor like my dad. But _not_ Ravenclaw or Slytherin.”

 

Harry smirked, but said, “It doesn’t matter which House you’re sorted into, Little Man, they’re all very respectable in their own ways.”

 

Draco looked surprised at Harry’s words, but Teddy nodded. “I know. That’s what you and grandma always say.

 

“My bet’s still on Hufflepuff for you though,” Harry added.

 

Teddy grinned and nodded. “I like yellow!” he burst, his blue hair shifting to yellow, if only for a moment. “And I have badger jammies. _See_ Draco?” Teddy sat up then, to display his pyjamas. “Harry founded them when he was on holiday last summer.”

 

Draco looked at his cousin’s sleeping attire and nodded. “I see,” he said. “Very...nice.” His gaze then went to the other man. “Carry on, Potter.”

 

“Right,” Harry said. “Where was I? Oh.”

 

_Jack climbed the beanstalk until he was high in the sky,_  
even higher than the clouds. And there before him he saw  
a great castle.

_Jack walked up to the castle. There in the doorway  
stood the biggest woman he had ever seen!_

_“Please, Ma’am, I am very hungry. Could I come in  
and have something to eat?” asked Jack._

_The woman said that her husband, who was a giant,_  
was coming home soon and would eat Jack for supper.  
But Jack asked again so nicely that the woman brought  
him inside and gave him some breakfast.

_No sooner had Jack finished eating than he heard the  
tramp, tramp, tramp of the giant’s boots._

_Quickly, the woman hid Jack in the unlit oven._

_The giant filled the kitchen door and roared,_

**Fe-fi-fo-fum,**  
I smell the blood of an Englishman!  
Be he live or be he dead,  
I’ll grind his bones to make my bread!

 

Harry roared this, just as the giant would have, making Teddy clap his hands and giggle some more.

 

“He’s going to _eat_ the boy?” Draco asked. “Muggles have a sick sense of humor.”

 

This made Harry laugh. “And how is this Muggle fairytale any different from the wizarding stories your mother told you?”

 

Draco frowned. “Good point. Still.”

 

“It’s just a story, Draco,” said Teddy. “Keep reading, Harry.”

 

_“You only smell the stew I have cooked,”  
setting a huge bowl in front of him._

_After the giant had eaten his fill, he called for his gold._  
His wife brought bags of gold coins. The giant counted  
them until he grew sleepy. Soon he began to snore.

_Jack slipped out of the dark oven and grabbed one of_  
the bags of gold. Then he ran as fast as he could to the  
beanstalk and climbed down.

 

“What a bloody little _thief_!” the blond man growled, incensed. “How _dare_ that little shite take what belongs to another.”

 

Teddy’s eyes widened and Harry frowned. “Nice language, Malfoy.”

 

“Jack and his mum are hungry, Cousin Draco,” Teddy put in. “I have no idea what it’s like to be hungry, but...I ‘magine it’s not fun.”

 

Draco had the decency to...look embarrassed. “My apologies, Teddy,” he said sincerely. “I’ve never been...ahh...never mind.” He paused—because he was going to say that he’d never been hungry either, but that wasn’t exactly true—and looked at Harry. “It’s still not right.”

 

“We’ve both seen and done worse, Malfoy,” Harry reminded him—causing the blond to clench his teeth. “Shall I continue?”

 

Draco gave a clipped nod.

 

_Jack’s mother was happy to have him home, and the_  
gold bought them food for many months. But as soon as  
the coins were spent, Jack disguised himself and climbed the  
beanstalk past the clouds. Once again he asked the giant’s  
wife to let him into the castle.

_The woman did not recognize Jack in his disguise._  
But she did not want to let him in. She told Jack that the  
last boy she had let in for food had stolen a bag of her  
husband’s gold.

_But Jack asked so nicely for a drink that she brought  
him to the kitchen and gave him a thimble of water._

_No sooner had Jack finished the water than he heard  
the tramping of giant boots and ran to hide in the oven.  
The giant _(Harry) _roared,_

 

**Fe-fi-fo-fum,**  
I smell the blood of an Englishman!  
Be he live or be he dead,  
I’ll grind his bones to make my bread!

 

_His wife said, “You only smell the delicious soup I have  
cooked for you.” Then she fed the giant his supper._

_After the giant had eaten, he told his wife to bring his  
magic hen._

_“Lay an egg!” commanded the giant. The hen laid a_  
perfect golden egg. Soon the giant fell asleep, and Jack  
crept out from his hiding place. He grabbed the hen and  
did not stop running until he was safely home.

Draco snorted, but didn’t say anything—probably because Harry glared at him.

_Each day the hen laid another golden egg. Jack and his_  
mother were able to sell the eggs to buy plenty of food.  
Jack’s mother was very happy.

_But Jack still longed for adventure. So he climbed up_  
the beanstalk once more and tiptoed into the giant’s castle  
He ran into the kitchen and hid behind a giant broom.

_Soon the giant and his wife came in. The giant looked  
around the kitchen and cried,_

**Fe-fi-fo-fum,  
I smell the blood of an...**

_His wife quickly ran to look in the oven, but no one  
was there._

_The giant sat down in his chair with a thump that_  
rattled the kichen floor and called for his wife to bring  
him his magic harp. Jack watched as a lovely golden harp  
was set before the giant.

_When the giant roared, “Sing!” the harp came to life_  
and played a beautiful song all by itself. It even sang along  
with its music in a soft, sweet voice. The giant ate his  
supper while the harp played and sang. When the giant  
was full, the harp’s music lulled him to sleep.

“Here we go again,” Draco interjected, guessing what was going to happen next.

 

Hiding a smile, Harry continued to read.

_When the giant was snoring loudly and was certainly_  
asleep, Jack crept from his hiding place behind the broom  
He picked up the golden harp and ran away with it.

_The magic harp called out, “Help, master!”_

_This woke the sleeping giant. When he realized that_  
his prized harp was being stolen, the giant leaped up with  
a mighty roar of rage and grabbed for Jack with one of his  
huge hands.

_Jack jumped off the table and ran just as fast as his_  
legs would carry him. He could hear the tramp, tramp,  
tramp of the giant’s boots behind him, and that made him  
run faster than he had ever run before!

_When Jack reached the beanstalk, he climbed all the_  
way down to the ground with the magic harp clutched  
tightly in one arm.

_As soon as Jack reached the ground, he grabbed an ax_  
and with one sharp blow chopped down the huge beanstalk.  
Down it crashed, and with it crashed the giant.

_That was the end of the magic beanstalk and the end  
of the giant!_

_As for Jack and his mother, they lived happily ever after  
with the wonderful hen and the magical golden harp._ 1.

 

“And...what about the giant’s wife?” Draco asked, appalled. “That was just...a _horrible_ story, Potter. First, the ‘hero’ in the story,” he continued on, making air quotes, “gains sympathy from the wife, then hides in her house from her husband. Then he proceeds to rob them blind. The little prat steals a bag of gold, then his golden egg laying hen, and then his golden harp! And finally, Jack is responsible for the death of the giant. How can you read such rubbish to my cousin?!”

 

For a second, Harry just stared—then he shrugged. “It’s just a story, Malfoy. Most of the fairytales in this book are pretty edgy. It’s just the way they are. Besides, children seem to understand that they’re just stories.

 

Draco frowned. “I don’t like it.”

 

“Well then, you’re quite welcome to avoid story time if it bothers you so much, Malfoy,” Harry offered.

 

This caused Teddy to frown, because _he’d_ enjoyed having his cousin there.

 

“Or...um...have a story time of your own, if you’d rather,” Harry adjusted, because he saw his godson’s upset look. “You and Teddy could get together in your room if you wish to read something different to him.”

 

Teddy continued to frown. He didn’t want to lose his cuddles with Harry either.

 

And Draco—also aware of the boy’s growing panic—met Harry’s green gaze. “We could do that, Teddy, but...I’m sure I could _learn_ to enjoy your stories. I’ve just never heard them before and so that was rather shocking.”

 

Teddy grinned at his cousin, then at his godfather. “Tell me a story about my parents, Harry,” he pleaded.

 

Harry smiled. “All right. I’ll tell you about the first time I met each of them.

**-oOo-**

 

Teddy had given one last smile, then yawned as he closed his eyes drifted off to sleep. Watching the boy, Harry was surprised that he’d gotten away with reading just one story and telling two others—he’d expected it to be a five or more story night. Smiling, he reached out and pushed a strand of blue hair off Teddy’s brow.

 

Harry was also surprised to find Malfoy sound asleep on the other side of Teddy. The blond man was lying on his right side, facing the center of the bed—and Harry and Teddy—holding Teddy’s small hand. Or rather, Teddy was clutching at Malfoy’s left hand. He’d _been_ holding it throughout their entire story time while Harry read/spoke to them. Malfoy’s other hand was tucked up under the right side of his head, his platinum hair splayed over the pillow he was using—Harry’s pillow—and his mouth was slightly open. Teddy’s lips were parted a bit as well, making the cousins resemble each other. Harry thought the two of them looked cute.

 

Wait. _Cute_? Harry frowned.

 

Getting up, Harry went to the bathroom. He still needed to brush his teeth and, while up, he used the toilet, then headed back to his bed. He contemplated waking the blond man and sending him on his way, but...didn’t have the heart to do it. He told himself that it was because he might wake Teddy and that he didn’t want to do that, but... Instead, Harry adjusted the blankets over the other man and tucked him in—because the room, as Teddy had claimed, was rather chilly. Then he reached out and pushed another strand of hair off his godson’s face; while Harry’d been in the bathroom, Teddy’s hair had gone back to its natural state, sort of a light browny-blond—that was typical...though sometimes it shifted in his sleep when he dreamed.

 

After gazing down at his godson for a few moments, Harry smiled, then circled the bed to his side. He thought about sleeping on the sofa, which was on the other side of the room, then decided his bed was large enough to accommodate all three of them without it being any more awkward that it already was. Or so he hoped. Getting into his bed—it was _his_ bed, after all—Harry lay there staring at the other two occupants for quite some time. But then he yawned and rolled over and let slumber take him.

**-oOo-**

 

Shivering, Draco came to awareness and realized he was snuggled up against a warm body—a small one—but that the blankets had been pulled from his back, thus causing his own lack of warmth.

 

Opening his eyes and blinking a few times, the blond focused. It was somewhat light in the room he was in, so he could see fairly well—and he was surprised at what he saw. The warm body, which turned out to be his young cousin, was turned away from him, his small frame practically draped over Potter’s _much_ larger one—Potter had grown quite a bit since they’d finished school—who lay there on his back sound asleep.

 

And then Draco realized his own arm was not only slung around the boy, but also over the dark-haired man. Quickly, Draco yanked his arm away and rolled to his back. Instantly, he felt colder than he already was. Carefully, so as not to awaken Potter or the boy, Draco pulled the blanket so that the cold air no longer touched his skin—then he closed his eyes again and tried to sleep.

 

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t fall back to sleep in Potter’s bed.

 

Glancing over at the man, who was sleeping peacefully, Draco sighed. He could very easily get used to this.

 

Then he frowned. Wait. _What_? He could get used to waking up in _Potter’s_ bed? Draco wanted to shudder...to be repulsed by his thoughts. This was his childhood enemy. Or... _something_. He wasn’t sure ‘enemy’ was the correct word for whatever they’d been in their youth, but they certainly hadn’t ever been cordial either. But whatever it was, Draco absolutely wasn’t repulsed by the idea of Potter being the first thing he saw every morning when he woke up.

 

_Hmm_. This gave the blond a lot to think on.

 

And then he remembered Pansy—abused and injured...and alone in _their_ room—and felt horrible for getting carried away with fairytales and the like. He needed to get back to her. To _check_ on her at the very least. And so he got up, gingerly tucked the blankets around the sleeping boy, and walked out of Potter’s room, closing the door as he went.

**-oOo-**

 

  1. “ **Jack and the Beanstalk** ,” adapted by Jane Jerrard, is an English fairy tale. The earliest known appearance in print is Benjamin Tabart's moralised version of 1807. "Felix Summerly" (Henry Cole) popularised it in _The Home Treasury_ (1842), and Joseph Jacobs rewrote it in _English Fairy Tales_ (1890). Jacobs' version is most commonly reprinted today and it is believed to be closer to the oral versions than Tabart's because it lacks the moralizing.




	6. Chapter 6

**-oOo-**

**Chapter Six**

**-oOo-**

 

Draco woke again to find Pansy staring across at him. He’d sneaked back into their room and stripped down to his underpants, then crawled into the bed he’d so kindly been given and fallen straight to sleep again. And now, eyes open—once _again_!—Draco stretched, then rolled to his side and looked at his friend. She was sitting in her bed, propped up against the overly ornate headboard.

 

“Where were you all night?” she asked, suspiciously.

 

_Damn it_! he thought, realizing that she must have awakened at some point during the night and noticed his absence. “I went down for dessert,” he answered evenly—he hoped. He also hoped Pansy hadn’t been too frightened when she’d awakened to an empty room. As tough as she liked to pretend she was, that’s all it was...an act.

 

She eyed him. “Ate sweets all night, did you?”

 

“No, actually. I drank wine as well. Seems there’s an unlimited supply. And afterwards I spent some time with my cousin,” Draco said truthfully, hoping that Pansy wouldn’t catch on that there was more to the story. “Teddy’s a pretty interesting kid. A little odd, but...interesting.”

 

“ _Hmm_.”

 

“What? _Hmm_?” he queried, wondering how far she’d take her questioning and if he’d be forced to admit that he’d fallen asleep in Potter’s bed—and that he’d _liked_ being there.

 

Pansy shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s weird here, Draco, and...why did you have to bring us to _Potter’s_?”

 

Draco sighed. “We needed the help, Pans,” he said quietly. “I...I didn’t know what else to do.”

 

Biting her lip, she looked down at her hands and whispered, “I know. I just...I don’t like it here,” she whined, her face turned down, her eyes fixed on her fingers, which were fiddling with the blankets covering her. Then she looked up and around the dimly-lit, _gloomy_ room. “It’s...creepy here,” she said, shuddering violently—for show—then looking down at her hands again.

 

Draco pursed his lips. “We’re not going back out on the streets,” he said.

 

Pansy’s head snapped up and she opened her mouth to protest, but Draco cut her off.

 

“We’re _not_!” he insisted. “We’ve been through hell and we’re not going back, no matter what.”

 

She looked fearful, but she nodded and blinked, tears spilling out of her dark eyes. “All right. But...we can’t stay _here_ , Draco. We just can’t stay in Potter’s house.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because. After what I did...what I tried to do to him at Hogwarts that night.” She shrugged. “He must _hate_ me.”

 

“He’s not once mentioned what you _tried_ to do, Pans,” Draco informed his friend. “Merlin, he let us in, mostly without question, and he’s been...nice.”

 

Pansy’s eyes narrowed. “Nice?”

 

Draco nodded. Carefully though, because he didn’t want his very astute to start asking unwanted questions. “Yeah. You know...not arse-like.”

 

Pansy chuckled. “You like him,” she quickly deduced; she was not stupid.

 

“I don’t. I just...we _need_ some down time, Pansy, and—”

 

“Yeah, some down _there_ time,” she said, nodding suggestively at his groin, her eyes shifting there as well.”

 

Snapping the covers back, Draco got up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, _witch_ ,” he said in a snarlish way as he headed toward their bathroom.

 

The dark-haired woman snorted. “Of _course_ you don’t,” she called after him.

 

SLAM!

 

**-oOo-**

 

Harry awoke not much later than the blond had in the other room to a slight ache in his bladder and the sound of light snoring—and to a not-so-heavy weight on his chest, which was a regular occurrence when Teddy slept in his room...as he often woke up with the boy sprawled across him. Smiling, Harry shifted his godson off of him and slipped from the bed to go use the toilet.

 

It was a quick affair in the loo, but Harry found himself chilly afterward, so he slid back into his bed to warm up. The movement on the mattress caused Teddy to groan and roll over to face away from him. Smiling again, Harry watched the child sleep.

 

Then he frowned, remembering that Malfoy had been in his room—in his _bed_ —when he’d fallen asleep the night before. It was too weird to have the blond in his house, but he wasn’t sorry he’d allowed Malfoy and Parkinson in. They were in need and...well, Harry enjoyed helping those in need.

 

Still frowning, he wondered when the other man had left his room and... _why_? And then he questioned why he even cared. But he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about the fact that he’d felt surprisingly comfortable with Draco Malfoy occupying the other side of his bed.

 

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” he murmured—then glanced at the sleep child next to him. The boy groaned again, then sighed and opened his eyes. They instantly turned green to match Harry’s, his hair next morphed into Malfoy’s exact shade of blond—platinum.

 

“Where’s Cousin Draco?” Teddy asked with a yawn.

 

“Dunno,” was Harry’s response.

 

Teddy pouted—then brightened. “Can we go find him?”

 

“Maybe later. He needs some sleep, I imagine...to get over being sick.”

 

Teddy nodded. “Why was he so sick when he and that lady got here? Is she sick too?”

 

Harry shook his head. “No, Pansy’s not sick, but she was hurt. Beth and Ben fixed her all up though. And Malfoy’s fine now. He was...out in the cold too much, so his resistance was down.”

 

Teddy nodded, his eyes wide—then he frowned. “Draco.”

 

Harry blinked. “What?”

 

“My cousin’s name is _Draco_ ,” Teddy said.

 

“I know his name, Teddy, but...well, _Draco_ and I didn’t exactly get along when we were at Hogwarts together,” Harry explained. “It’s hard to get beyond that.”

 

“You don’t like him?” asked the boy, his lip trembling. Unconsciously, he shifted his hair color from blond to black.

 

“To be completely honest, Teddy, I don’t really _know_ him,” the dark-haired man admitted, reaching out and stroking the boy’s head. “I don’t hate him though.”

 

Teddy grinned. “Good, because I _like_ him! He’s my reltive.”

 

Harry smiled, then corrected the boy. “Relative.”

 

“Yeah that,” the boy said, nodding. “I’m hungry.”

 

“Me too kiddo. Wanna go see what’s cookin’?”

 

Teddy nodded.

 

**-oOo-**

 

Pansy chose to stay sequestered up in their assigned room, but Draco felt the need to get out and explore a bit—this was, after all, the Black family home, even if it did now belong to Potter. And so, when his friend settled in for a nap after lunch—she was still exhausted from her ordeal—he silently excused himself, leaving a pile of Muggle paperbacks on the table next to the bed, just in case she woke up in his absence and needed something to fill the void.

 

And so he crept out of their room.

 

Opening the door, Draco first peeked out at the main landing, then stepped out onto it, closing the door quietly. He’d been on this landing a few times—in the process of going down to eat and visit and back up to his room...and also when he’d gone up to Potter’s room, but he was trying to avoid thinking about that—but he hadn’t yet truly looked around. Glancing at his surroundings, he counted three doors in front of him—bedrooms and most likely a bathroom, he presumed—a linen cupboard, the two staircases, and a hallway to his left. He peered down the long hallway that led away from one set of stairs and parallel with the other; down that way there was a set of double doors and, at the end of the hallway, a railing. Draco headed that way.

 

Once he reached the railing, Draco realized it was a balcony of sorts, overlooking the ground floor below—with a balcony from the first floor as well. Draco could see the front entrance from his vantage point—it seemed quiet down there.

 

Stepping back, the blond turned around and realized the stairs continued up to the next level behind him. He chose instead to go back down the hallway. Stopping at the double doors, Draco leaned his ear upon it and listened. Hearing nothing, he took the knob in his hand and slowly turned it. Pushing the door open just enough to peer inside, Draco couldn’t help but smile. It was a library!

 

Quietly, Draco stepped in and looked around. There really were a lot of books... _masses_ of them, actually, covering pretty much ever inch of wall space in the room—just the way a library should be, as far as Draco was concerned. The room was dimly lit, but obviously clean and tidy, very much like all he’d so far seen of Potter’s house.

 

And quiet too, causing Draco to wonder if anyone ever used this particular room. He was also thinking about the contents of the room—and that of the books as well. Knowing the Black family, as he obviously did, Draco knew there must be a fair number of Dark Arts books under the roof—unless Potter had rid himself of them. As unfortunate as it would be for his family to lose their legacy of books, Draco couldn’t help but think the loss to be a good thing.

 

Draco was still considering this when his thoughts were interrupted by a muffled shuffling sound. And then he realized he wasn’t actually alone in the room.

 

“Is there something Kreacher can find for you, young Malfoy,” came a croaking voice from behind him.

 

Whipping around, Draco stared at one of Potter’s house-elves—Kreacher. He was sort of a creepy thing. The creature’s eyes were bloodshot, his nose snout-like, and his pale skin was hanging off him in folds. It also had white hair sprouting copiously from his bat-like ears and a suspicious look on its face. All in all, the house-elf was quite unlovable-looking.

 

Kreacher was, however, not wearing a filthy rag that marked him as the property of a witch or wizard. Instead, the house-elf wore a long, _clean_ , deep green, tunic-like shirt that was trimmed handsomely with gray cording, a pair of thick, yet mismatched, knitted socks, and a heavy gold locket carrying Salazar Slytherin’s mark, an ornate serpentine S.

 

“You remember me,” Draco stated after eyeing the tiny, half human-sized being.

 

The house-elf slowly nodded. “Yes,” he croaked, bowing low, then straightening up and looking Draco full in the face. “Kreacher couldn’t forget Miss Cissy’s only son.”

 

His lips quirking up slightly, Draco eyed the house-elf that suddenly didn’t seem quite so dreadful. “My mother would be pleased to hear that.”

 

Cocking his head slightly, Kreacher didn’t say anything, but he did rake his eyes over Draco’s person.

 

“Were you inside this room?” Draco asked. “Spying on me?”

 

Kreacher stared for a moment, his large eyes blank—then he shook his head and responded. “No.”

 

Draco’s eyes narrowed. Something seemed off about the house-elf and Draco decided he was definitely lying. He hadn’t, after all, heard the house-elf Apparate into the room. “Tell me the truth, Kreacher,” he said sternly, wondering if the house-elf would obey an order issued by him.

 

“Kreacher doesn’t have to listen to you,” he said. “Kreacher doesn’t have to listen to anyone anymore.”

 

Draco’s brows shot up. “Not even Potter?”

 

Kreacher shook his head. “Master has given me clothes,” he said, looking down at his tunic with disdain. “Kreacher is a free elf now, just as Dobby was,” he went on, then shuddered as if he loathed his freedom.

 

“If that’s true then...why do you still call him Master?” Draco asked.

 

Kreacher frowned at this. “Master is still the owner of my Mistress’s house. If Kreacher wants to be allowed to live out his days here, then Kreacher must be...pleasant.”

 

Draco snorted at this—then chuckled. The idea that Kreacher thought he was being _pleasant_ was quite humorous. “You can tell me, you know,” Draco said. “I won’t tell Potter that you were in this room...or any other room for that matter.”

 

“Kreacher doesn’t care if you tell Master. Master says Kreacher can go wherever he wants as long as he doesn’t insult Master’s blood traitor and Mudblood friends.”

 

Draco couldn’t help but smile. “You allowed to call them that?” he asked.

 

Kreacher blinked, then slowly shook his head.

 

“Might want to mind your mouth then,” Draco suggested.

 

“Kreacher doesn’t think you’ll tell.”

 

Draco shook his head. “No, I won’t tell, but...maybe you should be careful anyway. There’s no telling what Potter will do if he hears you.”

 

Kreacher nodded. “Kreacher will...be careful,” he said—then disappeared with loud _crack_.

 

Draco stood there for a second, then hurried back to the stairs after closing the double doors.

 

At the bottom of the next staircase, Draco hurried around and down again, finding himself on the ground floor in the hallway that housed numerous Black family portraits.

 

“Sure were a lot of you,” he breathed out as he looked at the portraits.

 

“ _Shhh_ ,” came someone’s voice.

 

Draco turned confused eyes on the person who’d shushed him. It was Potter’s large, blond, muscular cousin.

 

“You don’t want to wake the old hag, do you?” the young man whispered, pointing up at a heavy curtain—most probably covering “the old hag,” whoever _that_ was—then motioning for Draco to follow him. They went into the room across the hall.

 

“We’re all pretty quiet when walking through the ground floor hall,” Dudley informed him. “That woman is scary.”

 

Draco frowned. “Which woman are we talking about?”

 

“Harry says she used to own this house. She was his godfather’s mother, I think,” answered Dudley, scratching his head as his eyes went to the tapestry on the wall.

 

“Walburga Black, then,” Draco said, shifting his gaze to the tapestry as well. “Potter’s godfather, Sirius Black, was my mother’s cousin.”

 

“Hmm.” Dudley nodded, then looked back at the other blond man. “You’re sort of related then, you and Harry.”

 

Draco snorted. “I’m sure Potter would _love_ to hear that,” he said as he looked at his own face on the tapestry on the wall.

 

Frowning, Dudley shifted on his feet, obviously confused. “Why do you keep calling Harry ‘ _Potter_ ’? I mean, it’s his name, but...”

 

Draco smirked a little. “Our history isn’t great. We didn’t really get on at Hogwarts. I thought he was an attention-seeking prat and he thought...well, I’m not quite sure _what_ he thought. Bottom line is, we hated each other.”

 

Dudley chuckled. “Harry and I didn’t used to get along either. I was...a bit of a bully,” he admitted. “But he’s not one to hold grudges. Really.”

 

“I’ve heard that about him...around here anyway.”

 

“Well, I doubt he _hated_ you,” Dudley continued. “I really was horrible to him while we were growing up, but he seems to have forgiven me.” Dudley sort of shrugged. “I don’t know what’s happened between you two. I know there was a war, but you should give him a chance.”

 

Draco nodded. That was his plan...to give Potter a chance. He just hoped Potter was going to do the same. _Seemed_ like he was. Otherwise, why allow Draco—and Pansy—into his home.

 

“Anyway, I have some things to do. I promised my mum that I’d help her in the garden on the roof, but you’ll find Harry in the kitchen...if you were looking for him.”

 

Draco nodded again. He hadn’t actually been looking for Potter, just taking a look around the place, but figured he ought to find the kitchen sooner rather than later.

 

“There’s a door just outside the dining room, on the left; the stairs in there will take you down to the basement, where the kitchen is.”

 

**-oOo-**

 

Draco watched Potter’s cousin shuffle out of the room, then proceeded to look at the Black Family tapestry— _his_ family tree on his mother’s side. It was huge, covering most of the wall space of the room, and appeared to be immensely old. I _t was faded and looked as though Doxys had gnawed it in places. Nevertheless, the golden thread with which it was embroidered still glinted brightly enough to show a sprawling family tree dating back (as far as_ Draco _could tell) to the Middle Ages. Large words at the very top of the tapestry read: The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black 'Toujours pur'._

 

“Always pure,” Draco whispered, giving a snort of indignation, knowing quite well what his ancestors would have thought of Potter taking over their home and turning it into a home for the indigent. Of course, they’d not be too pleased that Draco was here as well—given his current circumstances.

 

Sighing, the blond turned and walked back out into the dimly lit hallway, but stopped where he assumed the “old hag” to be.

 

_She couldn’t be_ that _scary, could she?_ he wondered, lifting his hand to take a peek.

 

But then, resisting the urge to pull back the heavy curtains and look at the portrait of the woman who had once been his great aunt—because he’d been warned not to—Draco dropped his hand and walked quickly down the hall toward the dining room. Once there, however, Draco remembered being told to go down to the basement.

 

“Right. The kitchen,” Draco mumbled to himself as he opened the door that led down to the basement and descended yet _another_ set of stairs.

 

It was only slightly lighter in the stairwell than it had been in the hall Draco had just come from, which had the blond wondering why everything was kept so dark. In his limited experience regarding Muggles, he’d learned that they seemed to like things a little more light and airy.

 

Reaching the bottom of the stairs—which were quite long and turned twice to the left—Draco saw two doors. The first, on the right, was locked, and so he tried the one straight in front of him. The knob turned easily and he pushed the door open slowly. He immediately heard a female voice.

 

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Hermione Granger asked. “I mean...it’s _Malfoy_.”

 

“And Parkinson, mate,” Ron Weasley added.

 

Harry Potter sighed. “I know who he is, Hermione, and...you know I don’t have it in me to turn them away.”

 

Hermione nodded. “All right then,” she said, bucking up some Gryffindor courage and smiling at her friend. “We’re with you.”

 

“We are?” Ron asked, frowning.

 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Yes, we _are_!”

 

The Weasel sighed. “Fine.”

 

Harry smiled. “Great guys. That really helps.”

 

And then Harry shifted his gaze to behind them, causing them to turn around and see Draco Malfoy standing at the far end of the kitchen.

 

“Malfoy,” Ron said stiffly, nodding a greeting as he moved in closer to his girlfriend.

 

“Hello Draco,” said Hermione, surprising the blond with her use of his given name.

 

“Granger. Weasley,” Draco said civilly, though without warmth. As he took a few steps further into the room, his eyes went from them to his host. “Potter. I was just coming down to see the kitchen. Thought my cousin might be down here.” He wasn’t looking for Teddy, but it gave him a good excuse to be down in the basement kitchen.

 

Harry shook his head. “He’s out with Andromeda.”

 

Draco shifted, clearly uncomfortable. “Oh. I’ll just leave you three alone then.” He turned then, to go back upstairs.

 

“Wait, Malfoy. You don’t have to leave. We were just...about to have tea. You’re welcome join us.”

 

Ron’s jaw dropped open at Harry’s words, but Hermione nodded.

 

“Yes, Draco,” she said as she moved to the stove to put the kettle on. “Please come in and sit down. I’ll have it ready in just a few minutes.”

 

Unsure of himself—and Potter’s friends—Draco advanced into the room and sat on the long bench on the left side of the massive kitchen table. He watched as Potter took the seat at the head and the Weasel followed suit by sitting down across from Draco.

 

“So. What have you been up to, Malfoy?” asked Ron.

 

Draco’s eyes narrowed and Hermione turned and glared at her boyfriend. “Ron!” she hissed.

 

“ _What_?!” Ron burst. “Just trying to be...sociable.”

 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Ronald, your social skills leave something to be desired.”

 

Draco snorted. “Isn’t _that_ the truth?” he mumbled.

 

Ron glared across the table at him. “I heard that, Malfoy,” he snapped.

 

Hermione huffed, turning on the seated young men. “Do you think the two of you could _possibly_ grow the bloody fuck up?!”

 

Ron coughed and Draco just stared. And Harry grinned, but managed not the laugh. For once, he wasn’t being included in Hermione’s legendary scolding—and _that_ was brilliant! And the other thing that was pretty great was that it was rare to hear her cursing.

 

“But ‘Mione,” the redhead all but whined, “Malfoy started—”

 

“ _Shut it_ , Ronald Bilius Weasley!” she commanded.

 

Ron cringed, his face going bright red. “Must you use my _full_ name? You’re not mum, you know,” he complained.

 

Hermione snorted. “Maybe not, but I’ve had about enough of this childish behavior...from _all_ of you,” she said, her brown eyes raking over the three young men. “I mean...come _on_ , we’re grownups now, for fuck’s sake.”

 

Harry snickered this time, unable to hold it in. “Nice language, Hermione,” he scolded.

 

“Shut it, you!” she responded, sticking her tongue out at her friend, causing both Harry and Ron to laugh at her immaturity. She giggled too, but when their laughter subsided, they all glanced at the blond.

 

“Bilius? _Really_?” Draco taunted, snorting with amusement.

 

“You’re one to talk with a name like _Draco_ , Malfoy,” Ron countered. “And Merlin, what sort of name is _Malfoy_?”

 

The blond scowled, but gave a clipped nod. “Point taken, but...I’ll have you know Malfoy’s a fine name.”

 

Ron snorted, but grinned triumphantly—then moved over quickly as his girlfriend bought over four mugs and a steaming teapot, then pushed herself onto the bench next to him.


	7. Chapter 7

**-oOo-**

**Chapter Seven**

**-oOo-**

 

Even though Healer Ellsworth had given her the okay sooner, it was a good two weeks before Pansy was willing to venture outside the room she and Draco had been given. And even then she was extremely reluctant. In fact, Draco had had to beg her, promising to stay at her side no matter what. This meant that Pansy had to spend some time in the kitchen, as this night was going to be the first night that Draco would be largely responsible for the evening meal.

 

“I don’t understand all this, Draco,” Pansy whined, gesturing at him busily checking things on the stovetop.

 

“It’s called _cooking_ , Pans,” he replied.

 

She huffed. “I _know_ that, Draco,” she said. “I just mean...why are _you_ doing it? I’ve seen that nasty house-elf Potter has. Why not utilize the little bugger?”

 

Draco chuckled. “First off, that ‘nasty’ house-elf has a name. It’s Kreacher and...well, the poor thing is very old. He’s been in the Black family for eons.”

 

Pansy’s forehead pinched. “ _Poor thing_? Since when do you care about something like that? It’s a _house-elf_. It should be doing the work.”

 

Draco rolled his eyes. “Secondly,” he went on, “Potter’s _elves_ are free.”

 

“Elves? As in, more than one?”

 

Draco nodded. “Yes, I’ve met Debby and Kreacher and...ahh Zeb, I think...but I believe there are others.”

 

Pansy snorted. “I bet Granger _loves_ that!” she said snidely, remembering the Gryffindor girl’s ridiculous organization called S.P.E.W. What sort of silly name was that anyway?!

 

The blond chuckled again. “To be honest, Granger didn’t say anything about Potter’s house-elves when I saw her.”

 

Pansy’s eyes went wide. “You saw her? And you neglected to tell me?” she accused.

 

“Spoke to her even. And Weasley as well.”

 

Still a bit unsteady, Pansy rose from the bench she’d been observing Draco from and took the two steps to reach him—then slapped him hard. “You little _fucker_!” she yelled. “Why am I only just now hearing about this? Does the little Mud...twit live here as well?”

 

Frowning, Draco cringed at Pansy’s wording. “Violent much?!” he snapped, grabbing her hand when she raised it to smack him again. “Salazar, Pansy, what’s gotten into you?” he bellowed, then turned from her.

 

“I...I d-don’t...k-know,” she stammered, her eyes on his back. “Draco, I...f-feel dizzy.”

 

Turning, Draco immediately went to her and got her seated on the bench again. “Hold on,” he said, going back to the cooker to turn the heat down, he then called out, “Debby!”

 

And, with a sudden _cracking_ sound, Debby the house-elf was standing right there.

 

“How can Debby be helping Master’s guests?” she asked.

 

“Um. Debby, my friend Pansy isn’t feeling well. Is...is Healer Ellsworth home? Ben,” he corrected himself.”

 

Debby shook her head. “Benjamin and Elizabeth are still out shopping.”

 

Draco frowned. “Petunia then?” he asked, knowing Pansy was skeptical about the Muggle woman’s abilities, but wanting someone there to help with her.

 

Smiling, Debby nodded. “Oh yes. Aunt Petunia is in the dining room setting the table for supper. Would you like Debby to fetch her?”

 

Draco was nodding, but Pansy shook her head. “No. I’m fine. Just dizzy.”

 

Sitting down beside his friend, Draco looked at the elf and gave her a nod, which caused the elf to disappear. Within moments, they could hear Debby and Petunia on the stairs.

 

“It would have been faster if you would have just let me—”

 

“NO!” shrieked Petunia Dursley. “There’ll be none of that magic used on me! I mean...there’s nothing wrong with magic, but...that appearation thing makes me a little...sick.” She gulped and shuddered, then looked up to see Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson staring at her.

 

“Pansy doesn’t feel well, Mrs Dursley,” Draco immediately explained.

 

“How many times must I tell you to call me Petunia, dear?” Harry Potter’s aunt asked.

 

“Sorry,” Draco said with a sigh, then glanced at his friend. “Maybe Pansy should go back to bed.”

 

“NO!” Pansy all but shouted. As much as he’d had to drag her down here, now that she _was_ here she had no intention of going back upstairs to that room until she had had a good meal. Sitting upright. At a nice table.

 

“What I _mean_ to say,” Pansy continued, “is that I’m fine. I’ll _be_ fine. I promise.”

 

Draco looked skeptical.

 

“Well, let me take a look at you dear,” Petunia said, coming forward. “She felt her forehead, then looked in her eyes and down her throat. “Are you in any pain, dear?”

 

Pansy shook her head. “No, ma’am. I just...got dizzy.”

 

Petunia nodded. “You seem fine. Maybe a little warm.”

 

Pansy nodded. “It _is_ a little warm in here,” she said, glancing at the hot stove, then glaring at her friend. “And...I was just...a little angry with Draco here.”

 

Petunia glanced at the blond man and pursed her lips. “You do tend to raise the blood pressure, dear,” she said, thinking about the rants she’d seen her nephew having in the last few days.

 

Draco just stared at her. He had no idea what _blood pressure_ was. It sounded horrid. Then he looked at his friend. “I’m sorry, Pans. I’ll help you upstairs.”

 

“I am _not_ going back to bed!” Pansy semi-screeched.

 

Draco cringed. “I meant upstairs to the dinner table,” he said quietly. “I can carry—”

 

“No need,” Petunia interrupted, then gestured at the doorway. “Dudley will assist me.”

 

Dudley Dursley immediately came forward and scooped up Pansy—who squealed, then squirmed in his arms—then wait for his mother’s instructions.

 

Petunia smiled, then looked at Draco. “You just finish up here, dear. Everyone will be gathering in the dining room shortly. I’ll send Zippy and Buddy down to take over for you, so you can join us.”

 

Frowning, Draco eyed his friend. She looked terribly uncomfortable and yet... _completely_ at ease. “ _Pans_?”

 

Pansy had to tear her eyes from the young man holding her against him to look down at Draco. “Um. It’s fine, Draco,” she said.

 

But as they started for the stairs, her eyes widened with fear. “ _Wait_!” she cried, suddenly terrified to leave the kitchen—and the only friend she had.

 

Draco was instantly at her side. “Maybe I should take you...back to our room,” he said protectively, reaching for her.

 

Pansy bit her lip, then shook her head. “No. I was just.... Never mind,” she said, then looked up at Dudley, who had been waiting patiently. “I am ready now. We can go up,” she said, almost sounding like she was ordering the large young man.

 

Dudley, however, didn’t seem to mind one bit. Smiling, he turned and took the little witch from the room.

 

**-oOo-**

 

Dinner was interesting. Not Draco’s cooking. No, everyone agreed that he’d done a fine job. It was everything else.

 

The first thing Draco noticed when he arrived in the dining room was that the room was full—all house guests were present that night, which was rare, because people were always coming and going at Harry’s House. But on this night everyone made sure to be there. He wasn’t sure whether or not it was to try his first meal or...another reason.

 

Next he glanced around the table and saw that Pansy was seated between Petunia and Dudley Dursley—and that she didn’t look _at all_ upset about it. In fact, she was smiling as the large blond man next to her fussed over her. Draco watched as the man picked up her napkin and handed it to her, then reached out and poured her some wine, all the while smiling stupidly back at her.

 

Draco almost snorted, but then his eyes went to his little cousin. The boy wasn’t in his usual place. Usually the boy insisted on sitting between Draco and Potter, but tonight the kid was sitting at the far end with the two children and their parents. Draco had no idea why.

 

“They’re having a sleep over tonight, dear,” came his aunt Andromeda’s voice.

 

He glanced at her. She was just entering the room too. “This old witch,” she said, gesturing at her self, “has an after-dinner date.”

 

Draco blinked. “After dinner,” he repeated, wondering why the man who was taking his aunt out wasn’t taking her to dinner too.

 

“Couldn’t miss my nephew’s first home-cooked meal,” she said with a gentle smile as she breezed past him and around to where she’d be sitting.

 

Draco watched her—then realized the only seat available to him was at the head of the table. He had never sat there before, but everyone else had taken a turn. In fact, whoever cooked the meal sat there. That is, everyone except Potter, who never sat at the head. Something about being uncomfortable there.

 

Slowly, Draco moved to the empty chair and dinner began. Conversation was ordinary. No one made waves. Nearly everyone commented pleasantly on the meal, though a few poked fun at him. Draco didn’t take offense to anything, because...well, he’d done _well_ and he knew it. Everyone knew it. Even Potter nodded his appreciation as they ate.

 

And then it was time to go upstairs to the drawing room for dessert and drinks.

 

“I’ll be heading out now,” Draco heard his aunt saying to Ben and Beth. “Please don’t let Teddy take advantage.”

 

“Not to worry, Andromeda,” Beth was saying. “You know he only acts up for you...and sometimes for Harry.”

 

Andromeda nodded. “I’m going to sneak out now...before I get caught up and have to read him a bedtime story.”

 

Ben and Beth nodded and Andromeda left the room.

 

But Draco followed. “You...have a date?”

 

Stopping at the front door, Andromeda started to put on her coat, but Draco grabbed it and helped his aunt.

 

“Yes, dear,” she said. “I agreed to this several weeks ago, but altered our plans to be here for dinner.”

 

Draco frowned. “Why isn’t this _date_ picking you up?” he asked—then, to himself, thought, _like a proper gentleman_.

 

Andromeda smiled at her nephew. “Don’t you worry, dear, this is casual and I didn’t want...well, never you mind,” she said, patting Draco’s chest. “Have a good evening dear. Your meal was delicious.”

 

Draco smiled. “Really? You’re not just saying that?”

 

Andromeda rolled her eyes. “You sound _just_ like your mother.”

 

“My mother can cook?” the blond said, confused.

 

Laughing, Andromeda shook her head. “No, darling, I _highly_ doubt it. I just mean... _Harry_!” she called out. “Be a dear and distract my nephew, so I can get out of the house. I swear, he’s worse than Teddy.”

 

And then, when Draco looked back at Harry Potter, his aunt slipped through the door and was gone.

 

Draco poked his head outside, but his aunt had clearly Disapperated. Huffing, he closed the door and turned—looking right into Harry Potter’s bright green eyes.

 

“Don’t worry, Malfoy,” Harry said, “Andromeda’s a big girl.”

 

“I know that, Potter!” the blond snapped, sounding more angry than he actually felt.

 

In the short time he’d been at _Potter’s Poor House for the Wrecked and Ruined_ —as he secretly called it—he’d become quite confused. The Chosen One was actually being nice to him and...well... _everyone_ was being nice to him. Even George Weasley, who was more wrecked and ruined than anyone Draco knew hadn’t said a mean-spirited thing since the beginning. And neither had Granger or the Weasel on their visits, which happened about every three days. It was weird.

 

But there were other odd things too. While Draco had not slept in Potter’s bed again—he refused to allow himself anything that might end in pain—they had been spending a lot of time together.

 

First, in the kitchen, for cooking lessons. Draco turned out to be rather good at cooking and Potter was not at all shy about telling him, quite often patting him on the back and saying things like, “Wow, that’s brilliant!” and “I can’t believe you’ve never done this before.” This warmed Draco’s icy heart—just a bit—but still, he kept his distance. As much as was possible.

 

They also drank together in the drawing room most evenings, sometimes playing wizards chess. Potter was surprisingly good at the game, even though he usually looked like he wasn’t even paying attention. Potter always looked like his mind was elsewhere. It was as if the dark-haired man was always on alert for something to happen. Always protecting his charges, Draco thought, sometimes wishing that there were less people in the house.

 

But some nights they’d meet in Teddy’s room to read to the boy and that was nice and quiet. Other nights the bedtime stories occurred in Potters room. Draco always sat in a chair though, so as not to fall asleep...like that one night. Well, he fell asleep sometimes, but Potter always woke him, claiming he’d get a stiff neck if he stayed there.

 

They also played billiards occasionally. Neither were very good at it and, after a few drinks, it seemed to be even more amusing. The old Draco would have been mortified if a group of people were laughing at him, but...well, with George Weasley heading the jokes, who _wouldn’t_ be laughing right along with everyone.

 

Sighing, Draco focused on the green eyes staring at him. “Drinks? Upstairs?”

 

“Right. I’m coming, Potter,” he said, following the other young man. “Who’s my aunt dating anyway?” he asked as they entered the drawing room. “And why hasn’t she mentioned him.”

 

Harry chuckled and grabbed two drinks off the table, handing one to the blond. “It’s a date, Malfoy, but...it’s _not_ a wizard.”

 

Draco’s eyes widened. “Aunt ‘dromeda’s dating a _MUGGLE_?!” he hissed, nearly choking on the sip of firewhisky he’d just taken.

 

Stopping, Harry turned and glared. “We are _not_ going to go there. This is Andromeda’s business, not ours. _Certainly_ not yours!”

 

“But she’s _my_ aunt!” Draco ground out. “How can this not be my business?”

 

Chugging his drink, Harry laughed. “Just because you think the world revolves around you, doesn’t mean that it does, Malfoy,” he said as he turned and put his glass down and picked up another. Crossing the room, he plopped down on the sofa and looked across the room at his cousin. Dudley had just settled Pansy Parkinson into a comfortable chair and was adjusting the little twit’s feet on an ottoman.

 

“What the _fuck_ is that?!” Harry asked with a gesture at them when he felt Malfoy’s presence just behind the sofa he’d chosen.

 

Draco looked up, his eyes widening when he heard Pansy giggle at something the large grinning Muggle said to her. Downing his drink, Draco grabbed another and sat next to Potter—not too close—and frowned.

 

“Your house is possessed, Potter!” he accused.

 

Harry snorted. “I don’t doubt that, Malfoy,” he agreed. “I blame you though, if it is.”

 

“What the bloody fuck for?!”

 

“Black family house,” Harry said, gesturing about. “Of _course_ it’s your fault, being a Black and all.”

 

Draco huffed, his eyes going back to Pansy. “I cannot believe she’s letting that oaf touch her.”

 

Harry looked over and frowned. “It _is_ weird. I’ve never actually seen my cousin so taken with a girl.” He laughed. “Hard to believe it’s _Parkinson_.”

 

“Well, I’ve never seen _her_ behave so ridiculously giddy,” came Theo Nott’s voice.

 

Both Harry and Draco looked up at him.

 

“You two look mighty chummy too, you know,” Theo continued, smirking at his friends. And yes, they were both his friend.

 

Draco scoffed. “ _We_. Are not. _Chummy_. Whatever the fuck that means,” the blond protested.

 

“ _Yeah_ ,” George Weasley put in as he slid onto the sofa next to Draco Malfoy, “you keep telling yourself that, Little Ferret.”

 

Draco glared. “Don’t call me that, Weasel!”

 

Grinning, George shook his head and waved a finger in Draco’s face. “Uh-uh-uh, Blondie, you can only call Little Ronnikins that or...I might see fit to drop something from the shop into your drink.”

 

Draco glanced down at his firewhisky and frowned, then stood up and glared down at the red-haired man. “Piss off, Weasley! Potter and I are not _chummy_!” he said.

 

They watched as the blond stormed from the room.

 

“The lad doth protest too much, me thinks,” said George, causing Theo and Harry to laugh—though Harry a bit nervously. Then, with an evil grin, George continued. “What you say we follow him?”

 

Theo was immediately on his feet...Harry rising a bit more slowly.

 

“I don’t know, George,” said Harry. “He looks...angry.”

 

George scoffed and looked at Theo. “You run along and catch up to our little newbie,” he said. “Harry and I will be right there.”

 

Theo nodded and hurried to catch up with Draco—who was clearly headed to the billiard room on the main floor.

 

Turning, George threw an arm over Harry shoulders. “My dearest, Harry, it is clear that the little snake likes you.”

 

Harry’s eyes widened. “ _W-what_?!”

 

George laughed. “And it’s _just_ as clear that you like the little twat back.”

 

The dark-haired man blushed crimson. “No. No I don’t,” he objected.

 

“Come on, mate,” George said as he dragged Harry in closer and rubbed his fisted hand on Harry’s already messy head. “Even _I_ can admit the bloke is fit.”

 

“ _Skinny_ , you mean,” Harry countered, maneuvering himself out from under George’s arm.

 

George raised a brow. “Maybe a bit. But then, so are you.”

 

Harry huffed. “He fell asleep in my room one night and...I kind of liked it,” he finally admitted, shifting on his feet.

 

George grinned. “See?”

 

“But _George_ , it’s _Malfoy_!”

 

“So the fuck what! The war’s over and we...have to get over it.”

 

Harry frowned. “And that’s why you’re staying here?” he asked, knowing it was a cruel thing to say.

 

George blinked. “I can leave if you want me to, Harry,” he said flatly.

 

Harry instantly shook his head. “No, George, you are welcome here as long as you want to be here. I shouldn’t have said that.”

 

The red-haired man nodded. “It’s fine. I could stay over the shop, but...it’s too hard with Fred gone. And I could stay with mum and dad, but...mum’s hard to deal with. Here’s perfect...if it’s all the same to you.”

 

Harry nodded. “I’m sorry.”

 

Shrugging, George grinned. “Now, how do we get—”

 

“No scheming!” Harry interrupted. “Just...let whatever happens...happen. Yeah?”

 

George rolled his eyes. “Sure.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is another snippet...from a book in here...

  

**-oOo-**

**Chapter Eight**

**-oOo-**

 

Pansy had watched Draco storm off in a huff—Draco was prone to huffs, though he’d never admit it, even to her—then her eyes followed Theo as he followed after their blond friend. And next went a grinning George Weasley, who’d draped an arm over Potter’s shoulder and all but dragged him from the room.

 

_Curious_ , she thought as her eyes went back to the Harry Potter’s Muggle cousin. He was...a bit fat...but, for some reason, he interested her. And he had nice eyes...as blue as Potter’s were green.

 

“So, Dudley,” she started. “What’s your deal with Potter?”

 

Dudley frowned. “No _deal_ ,” he said. “And...why does everyone keep calling him _Potter_?”

 

Pansy frowned; it would be difficult to call The Boy Who Lived by his given name and...she wasn’t about to start now. “It’s just what we’ve always called him...among other things.”

 

Dudley harrumphed. “I suppose that’s not worse than how I treated him.”

 

“Oh. Believe me. We’ve done worse,” Pansy admitted—then looked away and blushed.

 

“You don’t like him much,” Dudley deduced. He was far from the idiot he once was.

 

“Hmm. Can’t very well dislike someone who’s saved me, now can I?” she said, looking distressed, because, once again, she wondered why she was here, in Harry Potter’s house, of all places.

 

Dudley nodded. “Yeah. He’s saved me too. A few times. One time, from those Demon-entors...or something like that,” he finished with a frown.

 

Pansy snickered.

 

“ _What_?”

 

“Dementors,” she corrected

 

Dudley shuddered, but nodded. “Yeah. Those. It was horrible.”

 

“You didn’t see them though, did you?” the dark-haired young woman asked.

 

“No...Harry said only your kind can.”

 

Pansy nodded. “They’re horrible. You’re lucky,” she said.

 

“Yeah. Lucky,” Dudley repeated. “Can’t do magic though.”

 

The witch shrugged. “It’s not all great.”

 

“Probably better than being a _Muggle_ ,” the blond said, his tone a little disgusted.

 

Pansy frowned. “Don’t be like that,” she said, trying to smile. “Potter...er...your cousin went through a lot. He died, you know. Or so I heard.”

 

Dudley nodded. “He doesn’t like to talk about it, but I do know. And...” Dudley paused and frowned.

 

“What?” the dark-eyed witch prompted, leaning in.

 

“Well, he and that Ginny girl broke up and that was...it was hard on him.”

 

Pansy leaned closer. _Now_ she was getting somewhere. “Why’d they break up?”

 

Dudley bit his lip, unsure if he should say anything. It wasn’t, after all, his business. Or _Pansy’s_ , for that matter. But he spilled anyway. “Well...ahh...Harry seems to think he’s... _gay_.” The last word came out almost below a whisper.

 

Pansy nodded, trying _very_ hard not to grin. “I suppose that would be a problem for the little Weaselette. Took it badly, did she?”

 

Dudley snorted a laugh at the name Ginny Weasley had been called, but shook his head. “No, not really. Seemed she was the one who’d pointed it out. Even had one of her brothers test out her theory. At their _other_ brother’s funeral, no less.”

 

Pansy’s eyes widened.

 

“Anyway, things are a bit rough for Harry,” said Dudley. “He’s...lonely. I mean, he has all of us and Andromeda and Teddy, but...” The blond shrugged, his eyes sad. “He needs someone in his life.”

 

Nodding, Pansy whispered, “Draco’s gay too, you know. And those two have been dancing around each other for _years_! Maybe we should—”

 

Dudley shook his head, but his eyes were wide. “Harry would...kill us.”

 

The dark-haired young woman smirked. “Not if he’s kept busy enough. All he needs is one good blow job and...” She threw her hands up and grinned. “Viola!”

 

Dudley snorted. “You’re evil.”

 

“Ahh...Slytherin!”

 

“I have _no_ idea what that means, woman,” Dudley said.

 

Pansy rolled her eyes—mostly at herself. “Sorry, I keep forgetting you’re a Muggle.”

 

“How is that even possible?” the blond asked.

 

The dark-eyed witch shrugged. “I’ve _no_ idea,” she said.

 

“So...all Slytherins are evil?”

 

Pansy shook her head. “People like to think so... _especially_ the Gryffindors, but...no, we’re not all evil.”

 

“That’s good to know,” Dudley said, looking relieved. “So, what about Draco? I mean, he doesn’t _seem_ to like my cousin much.”

 

Pansy scoffed. “Like I said, they’ve been dancing around each other for years. I say, this is exactly what they both need. Yeah?”

 

Dudley looked unsure. “I don’t know. I don’t think Harry would appreciate us scheming. In fact, I know he wouldn’t. And I bet your Draco’s the same.”

 

Pansy snorted. “He’d hate it. But he doesn’t know what he needs and so that’s _exactly_ why we’re going to do this. And I bet we can get others to help. Theo, for one. And it looked to me like Jokester Weasley is already working on it.”

 

Dudley chuckled. “All right. Just so long as no one uses their wand on me...I can’t defend myself.”

 

“Don’t worry. I’m sure hexing Muggles isn’t allowed in Potter’s house, now is it?”

 

“Actually no...it’s not, but you never know.”

 

“True,” the young witch said.

 

**-oOo-**

 

Turned out they didn’t spend much time together in the billiard room. No time, in fact. Draco and Theo had gotten into a bit of an argument on the stairs on the way down and the blond had stomped off, leaving Theo to wait for the two former Gryffindors.

 

“Ahh. Draco won’t be joining us,” he told them.

 

George frowned, then shrugged. “Shall we still play?” he asked with a gesture at the table.

 

“Sure. Why not?”

 

Harry frowned. “I’m actually a bit tired, guys,” he admitted. “I think I’ll go grab a cup of tea and head up to bed.”

 

Theo nodded. “Sure, Harry. Sleep well.”

 

Turning, Harry quickly exited, glad to get away from a long evening watching his friends’ game, and headed for the stairs down to the kitchen. Once down there, he went to the stove and put the kettle on, then went into the walk-in refrigerator to find a snack. Supper hadn’t been too long ago, but he’s neglected to grab dessert up in the drawing room and he was suddenly feeling his sweet tooth. Smiling, he picked up a treacle tart and a tub of ice cream and walked back out and over to the table.

 

“Oh! I...I didn’t know you’d be down here,” came Draco Malfoy’s voice.

 

Turning, Harry looked at the blond. Malfoy was walking, a glass of wine in one hand and a bottle of it in the other.

 

“Having a drink?” Harry asked, brow raised.

 

Draco huffed. “Theo pissed me off,” he said, frowning. “I...I hope you don’t mind that I helped myself.”

 

“Not at all,” said Harry, shaking his head as he went back to cutting a massive slice of treacle tart and putting in a large bowl, then smothering it with a huge scoop of vanilla ice cream. “Want some?” he asked.

 

Draco eyed the dessert, then looked at his wine. “Um. Doesn’t go well with this, I think.”

 

Harry laughed. “So switch to dessert wine. _Debby_!” he called out loudly, then shoved a bite of treacle tart into his mouth.

 

With a crack the elf appeared. “What can Debby do for you, Master Harry?”

 

“For starters, you can stop calling me master, Debby,” Harry said after swallowing. “You’re a _free_ elf. I pay you to be here, remember?

 

Debby nodded and swished her dress—today it was pink with a ruffled white pinafore—and said, “Yes, Debby remembers, sir, but...” She looked a little confused.

 

Harry smiled. “Would you mind grabbing Malfoy and I a dessert wine...something that goes with treacle tart and vanilla ice cream?”

 

Debby grinned. “Certainly Master...Sir.”

 

Harry smiled and didn’t scold her, then looked at the blond. “Can’t get them to stop with that master bullshite.”

 

Sighing, Draco came forward and put the bottle of wine he was holding down. “That’s because house-elves are more comfortable being _owned_ , Potter,” he said—then took a sip from his glass and set it down next to the bottle. “As clever as she is, why can’t Granger see this?”

 

Harry shrugged. “Dunno,” he said as he pushed the treacle tart at the blond. “ _Accio_ bowl!”

 

Draco cut himself a small sliver and placed it neatly in the over-sized bowl Potter had given him, then frowned when the dark-haired man snorted, grabbed the pie knife, and slopped some more into it, then preceded to cover it with ice cream.

 

“You need to learn to overindulge,” Harry said.

 

The blond snorted. “I grew up overindulging, Potter. I _hardly_ think I need to learn this,” he said, thinking that it had been a _very_ long time since he’d been able to—and Potter seemed to read his mind.

 

Laughing, Harry picked up Draco’s glass of wine and took a gulp, then frowned. “You’re right, this doesn’t go with treacle tart.” Then he grinned at Debby’s reappearance.

 

“Debby thinks this wine will do,” she said. She had three bottles of it and placed them on the table. Opening one, she conjured two glasses and poured some wine into each. “Will there be anything else, Sirs?”

 

Harry shook his head. “No Debby. Thank you.”

 

The house-elf blushed, then left with a loud CRACK!

 

“You embarrassed her, Potter,” Malfoy scolded him. “You have to be firm with them.”

 

Harry frowned. “I didn’t mean to,” he said. “I just... _can’t_ order them about.”

 

Draco rolled his eyes. “An order doesn’t have to be made cruelly, Potter. I’m just saying...firm. With no ‘thank yous.’ They can’t comprehend that nonsense.”

 

Running a hand through his messy hair, Harry sighed. “Why am I suddenly tired again?”

 

Draco snorted. “Do I exhaust you, Potter?”

 

“You have _no_ idea how much,” Harry admitted—then nodded at his food. “I think I’m going to take this upstairs to my room.”

 

“Oh. All right.” Draco looked down at the mess of dessert in his bowl, then picked it up. He’d take his up to his own room as well and call one of the house-elves to come get whatever he didn’t finish—which would probably be all of it. He’d definitely drink the wine though. It seemed he was a bit tired as well.

 

Watching as Potter picked up his own bowl, Draco followed the other man to the stairs and up into the house.

 

They were silent as they walked. On the landing outside the room Draco shared with Pansy, the blond paused. There were voices carrying on behind the closed door.

 

**-oOo-**

 

“Dudley, you are too funny?” Pansy said, slapping him playfully.

 

Sitting in one of the chairs—that he’d pulled up in front of the fireplace—the blond Muggle smiled at the dark-haired witch. She was sitting in an identical chair and grinning at him.

 

“Tell me another story,” the witch said.

 

He rolled his eyes. “How about I read one of your books instead?” He’d seen a stack of books on her night table and went to grab one. “ _Marly’s Choice_ by Lora Leigh.”

 

“No!” she howled, her eyes wide with embarrassment as he took it up and opened to a random page...his eyes bugging out. Jumping to her feet, Pansy went to him and reached for the book—but he held it out of her reach and grinned. _Never_ had Pansy wished she had a wand more—especially when Dudley began to read her book aloud:

 

_The arm wrapped around her waist moved, his hand_  
cupping her breast, pinching the nipple of one between his  
thumb and finger. His fingers moved inside her again,  
slow and easy, pulling back, then thrusting into the hot  
depths until they met the barrier of her virginity. Over and  
over again. Long, smooth sliding motions that had her  
trembling, gasping for breath.

_“I want you on your knees, with my cock in your_  
mouth,” he whispered seductively at her ear, his teeth  
nibbling the skin there. “I’m hard Marly, and hurting, and  
you know it. stop pushing me or you’ll get something  
you’re sure as hell not prepared for.”

 

Dudley paused and l looked down at Pansy Parkinson. She was still trying to get to the book, clawing at him now. To defend himself, he grabbed her about the waist and pulled her against him, preventing her from moving. She still struggled, but he was too big and strong to be overpowered by the little witch. She growled at him, but he only chuckled.

 

“Nice reading material,” he said, grinning.

 

Having Pansy secured against him, Dudley lowered the book so he could see it better and continued reading:

 

_His fingers moved from the soaked depths of her_  
pussy, back to the tight little bud of her rear and back  
again. Marly trembled. Shaking. Weak and on fire. She  
knew what was coming, and she craved it. each time his  
fingers passed the little bud, pushing her moisture into it,  
deeper with each pass, she pushed against it, needing it  
inside her, needing to give him anything, everything he  
wanted from her.

_“I could tear that piece of cloth from your body now,_  
and fuck you until you’re screaming,” he panted, pressing  
his erection into the sooth, bared crevice of her rear, the  
jeans material scraping her soft skin.

_His fingers dipped into her wet channel, then moved_  
back again. And again, until the tight little entrance was  
giving easily to the fingertip pressing smoothly against it.  
Marly cried out, fighting to stand upright as his finger  
tormented then retreated, then two fingers pressing inside  
her vagina again, only to repeat the maneuver over and  
over again.

 

Pausing again, because Pansy had buried her face against him in her embarrassment, he squeezed her.

 

“This is very...entertaining,” he said.

 

“Oh _Merlin_ , I have never been more humiliated,” Pansy whined.

 

Dudley chuckled. “I had no idea there were books like this. I mean, I’ve seen romance novels before, but _this_... Well, it’s something else.” He released her then and held the book out to her.

 

Pansy took it, her face still bright red. “It’s _erotic_ romance, by the way,” she said, tossing the book onto her bed, then going and sitting back down in front of the fire. “And you’re a twat, Dudley Dursley, for taking _my_ book and reading it without _my_ permission.”

 

Laughing, Dudley followed her lead and sat down in his own chair. “Sounds like you’re used to being in control, Miss Parkinson.”

 

She shrugged. “Used to be,” she said—then pouted, her eyes staring into the fire. “Not so much anymore though.”

 

**-oOo-**

“Hmm. Maybe going in there isn’t such a great idea,” Draco said after listening for a few minutes.

 

Harry grinned. Both he and Malfoy had had their ears pressed against the door like two little snoops. “I can’t believe you gave her _that_ book,” he whispered.

 

“I didn’t know what _kinds_ of books they were when I stacked them there for her to read,” Draco protested. “I mean, I looked at the covers and they _seemed_ like the books I’ve always seen her reading. Muggle _romance_ novels.”

 

Harry snickered.

 

“And, what in _Salazar’s_ name are those books doing in your house _anyway_ , Potter?” the blond asked.

 

Harry shrugged. “I have lots of guests, Malfoy. I don’t exactly keep track of the items they bring in. Anyway,” he said, heading back to the stairs, “we can both eat in my room.”

 

Draco frowned, but followed.

 

Up in Potter’s room, Draco looked around. He’d been in there several times now—but never with just Potter. It was really red in there. Draco shuddered. _Typical_!

 

Seeing the dark-haired wizard set his bowl of dessert and glass of wine on a table in front of a small sofa, Draco followed suit and sat down, watching as Potter slipped his wand from his sleeve and into his hand to create a fire in the fireplace.

 

“Teddy says I like my room cold, but only when I’m sleeping,” Harry said as he sat down and picked up his bowl.” He took a bite. “Mmm. _Merlin_ , I love treacle tart.”

 

Draco chuckled and, instead of reaching for his dessert, picked up his wine. “Oh. Sweet,” he said, pulling a face.

 

Harry laughed. “Dessert wine, remember? You’re supposed to be eating that,” he said, pointing at Draco’s bowl.

 

“I _know_ what dessert wine is, Potter!” the blond snapped.

 

Harry sighed, then reached for his wand and flicked it at the blond’s glass. “There. Merlot.”

 

Draco’s irritated look soften. “Thanks, Potter,” he said, taking a sip. “Much better.”

 

Setting his wand down on the table this time, Harry smiled and picked up his own glass—and downed it.

 

Draco snorted. “Classy.”

 

Harry just laughed and poured himself some more.

 

Several glasses later—and his bowl empty—Harry was sitting back, comfortably stretched out on the sofa, his feet up on the table. He was tired, but not really sleepy, and...well, he was feeling curious about the man sitting next to him. Draco was still sipping his wine, but had probably gone through the same amount of it as Harry had. They both seemed a bit tipsy.

 

“Tell me, Malfoy,” Harry started, “what brought you and Pansy to my door?”

 

Draco stiffened.

 

“Sorry. You don’t have to tell me.”

 

Downing the rest of his current glass of wine, the blond sighed. “No, you have the right to know.”

 

Harry shrugged. “We all have the right to privacy, Malfoy,” he said. “I’m just curious.”

 

“Pansy and I...we were sort of...homeless.”

 

“I’d sort of gathered that,” said Harry.

 

“And we...well, we were doing just about anything we had to to survive,” the blond said. “If you get my meaning.”

 

Harry blinked, then frowned, as if he’d just figured it out. “Oh.”

 

Draco nodded. “Yeah. Oh.”

 

“So Pansy...” He couldn’t bring himself to say it.

 

“She was raped, Potter!” Draco said angrily. “It’s _still_ rape if it’s done against your will.”

 

Harry nodded. “Of course it is.”

 

“I was sick, so...I couldn’t...be the one,” Draco whispered, his gray eyes filling with guilt. “And...I was _frantic_ when she didn’t come back. All we wanted was enough money for a few meals and a warm, dry place to sleep for a couple nights. But I...I shouldn’t have let her go.”

 

Sitting up, Harry put his hand on Draco’s knee. “It’s not your fault, but...still, isn’t there _someone_ that could have helped you?”

 

Draco shook his head. “Mother left the country and I...don’t really have anyone else. Pansy’s family isn’t any better. And, without wands, we couldn’t even do any magic.”

 

Harry frowned. “Wait. _What_? You don’t have a wand?”

 

Draco shook his head again. “I used my mothers for a while after you took mine, but...it never really worked for me. Anyway, she needed it back when she left the country and I...didn’t have the money to buy another.”

 

Sitting forward, Harry dropped his head into his hands. He felt a little sick.

 

“Potter? Are you okay?”

 

“What? Oh. Yes...and no,” Harry said, standing up and going to his chest of drawers. Pulling open one of the top drawers, he took out a box and brought it over to the sofa. Sitting, he handed it to Draco Malfoy. “I should have returned this to you years ago. All I can say now is that...I’m sorry.”

 

Draco stared at the box for a moment, his hands trembling, then opened it. Inside lay his wand; the one that had chosen him when he was eleven years old. Instantly, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He was afraid to touch it though. What if it didn’t recognize him? He stared a few seconds more, then put the lid back on.

 

“Wait. Don’t you want it?” Harry asked.

 

Draco sighed. “You won it from me, Potter. It’s not mine anymore.”

 

Harry frowned. “That wand never liked me. I mean, it worked for me okay, but...I’m not you.”

 

The blond snorted. “ _That’s_ for sure.”

 

Harry rolled his eyes. “At least _try_ it,” he said, taking the box from Draco’s hands and opening it, then reaching in and picking up the wand. Feeling nothing, held it out to the blond. “Come on...Draco.”

 

Blinking, Draco stared at Harry Potter. “You...said my name.”

 

Harry laughed. “It’s not a crime, is it?”

 

“Well, no, but...I don’t think you’ve ever done that before.”

 

“Are you going to take the wand or what?” Harry asked, waving it.

 

Draco’s eyes swung back to the wand, then tentatively reached for it. When his fingers touched the wood, a tingling feeling zipped up his arm, giving him a chill. Grinning, the blond curled his hand around it and closed his eyes. He didn’t notice Potter letting go.

 

“I’d forgotten what this feels like,” he said. “It’s...brilliant.”

 

Harry smiled and watched him—then was surprised to find Malfoy’s arms wrapped around him, drunkenly holding on for dear life.

 

“Thank you...Harry,” the blond whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...and that book was...Marly's Choice, by Lora Leigh.


	9. Chapter 9

**-oOo-**

**Chapter Nine**

**-oOo-**

 

The next morning Harry woke up groggily, with a bit of a headache from consuming too much alcohol the night before, and realized he’d fallen asleep on his sofa—next to none other than Draco Malfoy. Tangled up with the other man, to be exact.

 

And the next thing he discovered was that he and the blond were not alone in the room. Sitting silently on his bed were his two best friends—Hermione ringing her hands while Ron glared.

 

Extracting himself from the slim limbs of the sleeping man beside him, Harry sat up.

 

“Er...hiya guys,” he said sleepily.

 

“Hi Harry,” Hermione said, biting her lip as Ron stood up and started pacing.

 

“What’s going on here, Harry?” Ron asked, none too quietly, gesturing at the sleeping man on the sofa. “I mean, we knew he was here, but...not _here_ here! What are you _doing_?”

 

Harry glanced down at Malfoy—who appeared to still be out cold—then shrugged. “I was...sleeping,” he said simply. “I mean, we had drinks in the drawing room last night and then...well, we came back here to finish and talk.”

 

Ron frowned. “Talk?”

 

Harry shrugged. “Yeah. I guess we fell asleep,” he said, rubbing his sore neck. “That’s all.”

 

“That’s all?” Ron parroted, still frowning. “You know, I talked to George and _he_ said—”

 

“Ron,” Hermione interrupted. “I think...this is Harry’s business.”

 

“Like hell it is!” Ron snapped. “I mean, having tea with the git is one thing, but... _this_?!”

 

“...was just a casual drink, Ron,” Harry added.

 

Ron snorted, then opened his mouth to continue on—but Hermione didn’t allow it.

 

“Actually, Harry, we come with news,” she said, smiling. “I’m pregnant.”

 

Harry grinned. “That’s... _great_ news, Hermione. Congratulations!” he said, going to his friend and hugging her.

 

Laughing at his exuberance, Hermione hugged back. “I’m only about three and half months along, so...the baby isn’t due until May,” she continued, “but we wanted to tell you right away. We’d like _you_ to be the godfather.” She glanced at Ron, because he was pacing again.

 

“Wow! I’d love to be. Thank you,” said Harry.

 

“Didn’t expect to find you sleeping with _Malfoy_ ,” the redhead grumbled.

 

Harry rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t _sleeping_ with him, I was just...er...sleeping...and Malfoy happens to be in the same room.”

 

“On the same _sofa_!” Ron burst. “With his slimey arms wrapped around you!”

 

“Shhh!” both Harry and Hermione said at the same time.

 

And then the door to Harry’s bedroom swung open. “Uncle Harry,” Teddy said as he ran in and threw himself into Harry’s arms. “Hi Ron. Hi Hermione. What’re you doing here? You here for breakfast?”

 

Hermione smiled. “Not today, Teddy. We both have work. We just wanted to talk to Harry first. We’re done though...so we’re going to leave.” She took hold of Ron’s sleeve and tried to lead him toward the Floo, but he resisted.

 

“This isn’t finished, mate,” said Ron. “We still need to talk about...that.”

 

“Talk about what?” Teddy chirped.

 

Harry shrugged noncommittally and Hermione rolled her eyes. “Come _on_ , Ronald,” she said, pulling her husband. “Let’s go. Bye Teddy.”

 

“Bye-bye, Auntie ‘Mione,” Teddy said, waving from Harry’s arms. “Bye Uncle Ron.”

 

Ron huffed, but smiled at the boy—and allowed his wife to lead him out.

 

“Why wouldn’t they stay for breakfast, Uncle Harry?” Teddy asked.

 

“You heard them, Teddy...work.”

 

Teddy frowned—then seemed to notice Draco. “Harry, did you and Cousin Draco have a sleepover...like me and Robbie?” he asked delightedly.

 

Harry’s eyes went to the sleeping blond. “Er...yeah, something like that.”

 

Teddy grinned. “So, you like each other now?”

 

“Um. I wouldn’t go _that_ far,” Harry responded.

 

“Why _not_?” the boy asked.

 

“It’s just...not that simple, Teddy,” Harry said—then continued quickly, in hopes of stopping more questions. “And don’t ask why.”

 

Teddy pouted. “I like sleepovers.”

 

Harry sighed. “Yes, they can be fun. It’s different when you’re an adult though,” he said, putting the boy down and swatting his behind. “Time to brush your teeth, little man.”

 

Teddy frowned. “Why? I’m going to go down to eat and get them dirty again.”

 

Harry rolled his eyes. “Then you can brush them again afterwards, but, for now, do as you’re told or there’ll be no snack in the afternoon.

 

Teddy pouted again—for just a second—then skipped off to Harry’s bathroom to brush his teeth.

 

Harry instantly turned and looked at the sleeping blond. “Okay, Malfoy, time to get up.”

 

No response.

 

“Malfoy, I know you’re awake and listening, so...get up!”

 

Opening his eyes, Draco huffed. “What gave me away?” he asked before yawning.

 

Harry snorted. “No one sleeps through Ron’s ranting.”

 

Sitting up, Draco’s eyes noticed his wand. He’d laid it on the table at some point the night before, in favor of picking up his glass and continuing to drink. He’d stared at it a lot, but hadn’t touched it after initially holding it. He couldn’t believe Potter had returned it to him. Hiding a smile, he sat forward and picked it up again. This time touching it didn’t make him tingle, but it felt right in his hand.

 

“Thank you for this, Potter,” he said quietly.

 

Harry shrugged. “It’s yours. And I feel terrible that I didn’t get it back to you sooner.”

 

“Some would say I have no business holding a wand anymore,” the blond said.

 

“Pfft!” Harry scoffed. “Half the Wizengamot shouldn’t be holding wands.”

 

Draco chuckled. “Not a fan of some in the Ministry?”

 

“Definitely not!”

 

“Cousin Draco!” Teddy said, bursting back into the room and rushing at his cousin. “Did you and Uncle Harry have a good sleepover?”

 

Draco glanced up at Harry and smirked. “It was delightful,” he responded to the boy.

 

Harry rolled his eyes. “I need to shower, so...why don’t you take Teddy down to breakfast.”

 

Draco looked slightly appalled. He still wasn’t comfortable taking care of the boy. “I think your shower can wait, Potter,” he said. “I think your godson takes priority.”

 

Harry laughed. “And _I_ think his cousin can handle him,” he said as he yanked his shirt over his head and headed into his en suite, saying, “be down as soon as possible,” as he closed the door.

 

Draco frowned, but Teddy took over.

 

“Come on, Cousin Draco,” he said. “I’m hungry.”

 

**-oOo-**

Draco and Teddy ended up stopping by Draco’s room, so that the blond could put on some fresh clothing. Draco was instantly sorry he’d not just used his wand to Scrougify what he’d been wearing. As they walked in the room, they were treated to Pansy’s scrutiny.

 

“Where have you _been_ , Draco?” the witch asked, her eyes narrowed. “Wait. Don’t tell me, all night dessert buffet in the drawing room again?”

 

“Very funny, Pans,” Draco said, dryly. “Be polite and say hello to my cousin, Teddy.”

 

After glaring at her friend, Pansy looked at the child who was clinging to the man. His hair had been blue when they walked in the room, but the instant Draco had said his name, the boy’s hair shifted to platinum blond.

 

“ _Hello_ , Teddy,” she said—just a little bit sarcastically—as she watched her friend grab a change of clothing and walk into their bathroom.

 

The boy nodded his greeting—not too sure about this woman. “You’re Cousin Draco’s friend.”

 

She nodded. “Yes.”

 

“Are you his girlfriend?” the boy asked.

 

Pansy snorted. “ _Absolutely_ not.”

 

“Why not?”

 

Pansy smirked. “Because, I’m not Draco’s type,” she said.

 

“Why not?”

 

Unsure how to respond, Pansy frowned. “Um. Because, Draco likes...black hair and green eyes,” she finished, grinning at the blond as he walked out of the bathroom.

 

“Very _funny_ , Pans,” Draco said, rolling his eyes.

 

She snickered.

 

“Uncle Harry has black hair and green eyes,” Teddy pushed. “Is that why you had a sleepover in Uncle Harry’s room, Cousin Draco? Is he your boyfriend?”

 

Draco’s face went scarlet and Pansy burst out laughing. “So _that’s_ where you were, Draco...with your boyfr—”

 

“No!” the blond burst, his eyes going from Teddy to Pansy. “Don’t say another word, Pansy Parkinson! Or you’ll be sorry.” Draco then pulled out his wand and twirled it teasingly—causing the witch’s mouth to gape open.

 

“Where’d you get _that_?!”

 

“Potter returned it to me,” he said. “Seems he’s had it all along. Now. You, get up and get dressed. Teddy wants breakfast and, since you’re in a good enough mood to harass me, you can accompany us downstairs.”

 

Pansy instantly bit her lip. “I...ahh...think I’d rather stay up here.”

 

Draco shook his head. “No. If I have to go down, then so do you.”

 

“It’s too soon,” Pansy protested. “Last night...it was too soon.”

 

Draco rolled his eyes. “Yes. I could see that...last night...the way you carried on with that Muggle.”

 

Pansy blushed. “My father would kill me.”

 

“As if he’s _ever_ going to know at this point.”

 

“True. Still.”

 

“So...you go change. Teddy and I will wait for you.”

 

Pansy’s eyes went to the boy. He’d been watching them silently—curiously. Now he was nodding. Sighing, Pansy got up from her bed and disappeared into the bathroom.

 

**-oOo-**

Later that day, Pansy was introduced to the kitchen—but this time she was expected to use it for cooking. Well, for _learning_ to cook. She was terrified.

 

“Why can’t I...you know...use magic?”

 

Harry raised a brow. “You have a wand?”

 

She scoffed. “No, but you do, Potter!” she snapped. “And Draco does. Why can’t I use his?”

 

“Because, that’s not how we do things around here,” Harry answered her.

 

“But...I don’t know _how_ to cook,” she protested.

 

“And that’s why I’m here to _show_ you,” Harry said. “It’s _really_ not that hard. If Malfoy can do it, then so can you.”

 

“ _Hey_!” came Draco from just across the room; he was sitting on the counter, being particularly unhelpful.

 

“We’ll start with easy stuff like boiling water and making toast,” the dark-haired man went on without responding to Draco’s outburst. “Both are easy.”

 

Pansy huffed, but nodded. “All right. What do I do?”

 

“You’ll need some sort of pot, for boiling the water. Let’s use the tea kettle, so we can have tea,” Harry said. “It’s on the cooker. Just take it and fill it at the sink.”

 

Pansy frowned, but picked up the device and went to the sink. Quickly, she filled it, then turned and looked at Harry again.

 

He pointed. “Put it on the stove and turn it on. It’ll whistle when the water is boiling.”

 

Nodding, Pansy went to the stove and set the kettle on one of the front burners, then stared at it for a second. She was frowning again.

 

Harry rolled his eyes. “Just look at it, Parkinson. Study what you see. You can figure it out. I know you’re not stupid.”

 

She huffed, then reached out and gingerly touched it—then started twisting knobs. In a few seconds she had all the burners going. She grinned and clapped her hands. “I did it!”

 

Both Harry and Draco chuckled and she glared at them.

 

“Turn off the ones you’re not using, Pans...or you’ll burn the place down,” Draco instructed, sounding like he knew it all.

 

“All _right_ , Mr Expert!” the witch snapped at her friend before looking at Harry. “Now what?”

 

“We’ll have tea,” Harry said, his eyes going to the blond. “Malfoy, get us some cups, would you?”

 

Draco snorted. “Why do I have to do it?” he asked. “Pansy’s the one learning.”

 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Malfoy, just be helpful for once. And no magic,” Harry added.

 

Draco glared, but hopped off the counter to get the cups. “Merlin, this is like servant’s stuff.”

 

Harry rolled his eyes. “You can remove the silver spoon from your arse, Malfoy,” he said. “You won’t be needing it around here.”

 

Pansy giggled. “Oh, I don’t know. Draco likes things up his—”

 

“Fuck _off_ , Pansy!” the blond interrupted.

 

“All right then! So, let’s go in the pantry. That’s where the tea is,” Harry informed the woman. “And the bread.”

 

From there, Harry took Pansy into the pantry and showed her around.

 

“Goodness, Potter, there’s enough food in here to feed an army!” she exclaimed.

 

Harry laughed. “Well, that’s about what we have living here,” he said. “Do you want jam for your toast?”

 

Pansy nodded.

 

“That would be in the refrigerator...with the butter.”

 

“In the what?”

 

“Er...another closet for the cold stuff,” he explained. “Muggles have appliances for these things. Put the tea and bread on the table.”

 

“You have one of these Muggle fri _germ_ ator thingies?” she asked.

 

Harry hid a smile—at her mispronunciation—and shook his head. “No, the wizarding equivalent, just like I suspect you grew up with. But I grew up with Muggles, so I learned to call it a fridge. I’ll show you where it is. Malfoy, get us a knife and a spoon, would you.”

 

Sticking her tongue out at her scowling friend, Pansy followed the dark-haired man.

 

“So, that door is Kreacher’s den and _that_ one is a small toilet...and this is the cool closet.” He pointed, then reached out and opened it.

 

Pansy poked her head in. It was _filled_ with food, just like the one she’d grown up with.

 

Harry picked up the butter and handed it to her, then picked up several jars. “Strawberry, apricot, bilberry, or...marmalade?”

 

Pansy grinned. “Marmalade!”

 

Nodding, Harry put the bilberry back and brought the other three out with them—just as the tea kettle started squealing.

 

“Water’s boiling!” Draco shouted.

 

“No shite!” Harry snapped, setting down the jam jars. Panicking, Pansy nearly dropped the butter. Harry caught it though, set it on the table, then guided the woman back to the cooker. “Just turn it off,” he instructed her. “Then pick it up...carefully, so you don’t burn yourself and—”

 

“Oh sure! Warn _her_ not to burn herself,” Draco groused from the table.

 

Harry rolled his eyes. “I didn’t think to warn you, Malfoy...it’s common sense. But after you spilled boiling water all over, I’m not taking any more chances. I’m learning too, you know. _Sooo_ ,” he went on, looking at Pansy again, “looks like Malfoy put tea in our cups, so you can just pour the water in...carefully.”

 

She nodded.

 

“And we’ll let it steep while we make toast,” Harry said, picking up the loaf and showing her the toaster. They waited while it toasted, Harry laughing when she squealed when it popped up.

 

“Careful,” he warned. “That’s hot too.”

 

Cautiously, she picked up each slice and piled them on a plate, then the two of them joined the blond at the table.

 

“Tea and toast,” Harry said after everything was buttered and slathered with jam.

 

Pansy grinned proudly. “I did it!”

 

“Yes. Yes you did,” Harry said. “And soon you’ll be making meals.”

 

Pansy pulled a face. “I don’t know about that, Potter...it’s _just_ tea and toast.”

 

Harry laughed. “Don’t put yourself down, Parkinson...you did well. And again...if Malfoy can do it, then you can too,” he repeated.

 

“ _Hey_!” the blond burst. “I’m sitting _right_ here!”

 

Again, he was ignored.

 

“Oh Salazar!” Pansy burst, smiling a little. “If my siblings could just see me!”

 

Harry’s brows raised. “You have brothers and sisters?”

 

Pansy nodded. “Two brothers and one sister.”

 

“Wow. I had no idea.”

 

“It’s not like you ever really knew anything about us, Potter.”

 

Harry nodded. “True.”

 

“My brothers are twins; six years older. And my sister is six years younger.”

“Tell him what House Marigold’s in, Pans,” Draco interrupted. “Pansy’s not the only pariah in the Parkinson household.”

 

Pansy snorted. “Mari’s a Hufflepuff!” she said with quite a bit of disgust. “Mother and Father were _not_ pleased!”

 

Harry laughed. “There nothing wrong with Hufflepuff,” he said. “Badgers are kick-arse!”

 

The two Slytherins snorted in derision. “O _kay_ ,” said Pansy.

 

Harry opened his mouth to argue, but was cut off.

 

“Don’t even bother, Potter,” Draco said. “You’ll never convince two snakes of that one.”

 

“Badgers _eat_ snakes, you know,” the dark-haired young man informed them—then wagged a finger at them warningly. “And...don’t let my godson know you look down on Hufflepuff, yeah? His mum was one and died fighting in the war. Teddy wants to be one just like her. Or in Gryffindor, like his dad.”

 

Pansy made a show of gagging, but smiled at Harry to make sure he knew she’d keep her trap shut—about Hufflepuff. “My brothers were in Slytherin though,” she said snootily. “Mother and father were quite proud of _them_.”

 

Harry rolled his eyes—for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. “Oh joy!”

 

“Don’t be like that, Potter,” the dark-haired witch scolded. “It’s the truth.”

 

“Whatever,” said the green-eyed man. “Tell me, what are the brothers’ names.”

 

Pansy smiled, clearly pleased about Harry’s interest. “Rickon and Sabastian,” she said quietly, her tone sad. They’d been forbidden from talking to her—unless she left England and joined them in France. And married the man they’d chosen for her. She shuddered at the thought of the twat her father had introduced her to.

 

“There’s more to that story, I imagine,” Harry said, watching her closely.

 

Looking down into her cup, Pansy nodded. But she didn’t say anything.

 

“The war was hard on all of us, Potter,” Draco said. “Much like my family, Pansy’s lost everything too. They weren’t, however, involved in the war. Just some...bad luck, I guess,” he said, glancing at his friend. “They’re currently living out of the country and have basically disowned her...because she refused to leave with them and marry the idiot of their choosing.”

 

Harry frowned. “That still happens? Arranged marriages. How...barbaric!”

 

“Pfft! I’ll say!” Pansy burst. “You should _see_ the pillock they want to marry me off to!”

 

“I’m sorry,” said the dark-haired man.

 

Pansy shrugged. “Such is life, yeah? I’m here now, so....” She paused, then shrugged—then got up, saying, “More tea?”

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes... I've been holding off on posting, due to...
> 
> 1\. ...apparent lack of interest (comments)...is anyone out there? Lol. But, here you go anyway. *sigh*
> 
> 2\. ...and because I'm experiencing an issue with chapter twelve. Yes, this is chapter ten, but I'm working on twelve and it's NOT flowing and...it's a bit repeaty of THIS chapter...sort of...in a way! So, I'm attempting fix it...but I wasn't sure about posting ten without first fixing twelve...just in case I have to fix ten instead.

**-oOo-**

**Chapter Ten**

**-oOo-**

 

Another couple weeks passed without much of anything, going on—except the usual, of course, which was people coming and going at regular intervals (some just passing through, others staying), Harry’s friends visiting, nightly meals in the dining room, drinks and dessert in the drawing room (most nights as well), the boys playing pool in the billiards room, the girls taking tea in the parlour...etc, etc, etc....

 

And then it was getting close to Christmas and most everyone found themselves in the mood to be festive, each contributing something to decorating the house for the holidays.

 

Petunia and Beth had set up a Muggle craft area on the table in the kitchen, helping the three little ones create their own homemade decorations—and were joined by some of the others. Remembering fun times of their pasts, Dennis and Nigel joined the group, smiling and laughing as they made baubles and ornaments and threw glitter around the kitchen, much to the older women’s amusement.

 

Luna was there too, adding a little magical sparkle to the mix. Beth was completely receptive to the young woman’s charming enchantments to their creations, but Petunia was still just a little bit nervous about it all, her brow pinching any time she heard a spell begin or saw magic being performed. As a distraction, Beth put on some Muggle Christmas music, which seemed to lull the other woman into a more relaxed state as they worked—and even had her chuckling every now and again. Petunia Dursley had come a _long_ way!

 

The laughter in the kitchen drew others in, namely George Weasley, who mostly kept to himself—and Flora Carrow, who almost never spoke to anyone. She’d been in the house since its inception, having been found sitting in a park crying. She’d been brought in by Luna Lovegood, to join the small array of lost souls and from there the house had blossomed into what it was now.

 

On this day, it was Petunia who’d noticed Flora first, because she’d been keeping her eyes averted from the colorful swirls of magic that Luna was currently performing for the children.

 

“Would you like to join us, Flora?” Petunia Dursley quietly asked the young woman.

 

Blinking, Flora stared for a moment—then shrugged noncommittally.

 

“Come in, dear,” Petunia said, beckoning the younger woman. “I’ll make us some tea.”

 

Flora watched the Muggle woman move toward the cooker, then followed slowly. As she passed the group having a good time, she chanced a glance their way and Luna, her eyes sparkling, nodded at her. She didn’t respond, but that wasn’t something that would bother the odd Ravenclaw girl. Luna Lovegood was one of a kind—and just plain _good_!

 

At the other end of the kitchen, Flora took a seat at the table and just sat there staring. She’d noticed George Weasley sitting on the counter by the sink, a cup of tea in his hands, but she’d not acknowledged him—and he’d not acknowledged her. They were a pair, the two of them, both mourning their other half.

 

When the kettle began to whistle, it was quickly removed from the fire. Petunia poured the hot water into two cups and brought them over to the table and sat down.

 

“I know this must be hard...” Petunia started—then stopped because she didn’t know what to say and didn’t want to say the wrong thing. She had too often said and done the wrong things. Part of her thought Flora Carrow should be _relieved_ that her aunt and uncle were now residing in the wizarding prison, where they could no longer hurt her—they _deserved_ Azkaban for their crimes! But the poor child was still grieving for her parents, who were killed at different times during the war, and missing her twin sister, who’d completely lost it during their final year at Hogwarts. _Hestia_ Carrow was not dead—like George Weasley’s twin—but she might as well be. She was now a patient at St Mungos and wasn’t expected to ever leave.

 

Reaching out, Petunia took up the girl’s hand—it was cold, despite warm, cozy kitchen and the heavy, drab green jumper she was wearing. Worriedly, the woman glanced up at the red-haired man who sat perched on the counter top watching.

 

Sighing heavily, George Weasley took his cue and set his cup down, then went to sit beside the despondent ex-Slytherin girl. For a solid minute, he sat there without saying or doing a thing—then he bumped her shoulder with his.

 

Her eyes filling, Flora had to blink to see again, her tears spilling down her cheeks as she tipped her head to rest it on the man’s upper arm. If anyone understood her, it was George Weasley. She’d thought that many a time, but she wasn’t used to socializing with anyone in the house. Not even Theodore Nott, who was a former housemate.

 

Wrapping an arm around her narrow shoulders, George pulled her close and squeezed. “I could take you to see her,” he offered.

 

Sniffling, Flora nodded. She would like that.

**-oOo-**

 

On the weekend, two weeks prior to Christmas, both Dennis and Nigel’s relatives were scheduled to visit, so everyone was instructed to be on their best behavior ‘while _the Muggles_ were in the house.’

 

This gave Dudley a bit of a laugh, because...weren’t the Muggles _always_ in the house?

 

“What about the house-elves?” he asked Harry as his cousin was dealing with a particularly bad Teddy meltdown—which caused the portrait of Walburga Black to go berserk.

 

" _Disgusting, filthy half-breeds!_ ” the portrait screeched. “ _Blood traitors, children of filth! By-products of dirt and vileness! Abominations! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers—_ ”

 

Dudley cringed and backed away, quickly moving into the stairwell that led down into the kitchen, closing the door as he went and leaving Harry to deal with both the portrait and Teddy Lupin. Harry completely understood. Teddy they could all handle—Walburga, not so much!

 

Teddy had collapsed onto the floor, making his body go limp, so that it was difficult to pick him up. Harry scooped him up anyway though and held the boy while he kicked and wailed his displeasure, all the while glaring up at the screaming portrait.

 

Between the shrieking portrait and Teddy’s tantrum, Harry was having a hard time focusing—then he noticed Malfoy standing at the foot of the stairs with Parkinson and made a decision.

 

“Oi! Malfoy!” he bellowed—then stalked over to the blond and pushed the screaming child into his arms. “Here. Take Teddy up to my room and put him down for his nap while I handle this!” he said, gesticulating wildly, but in the general direction of the portrait.

 

Draco opened his mouth to complain or protest or _refuse_ , but...the dark-haired man had already turned away, his wand out.

 

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake,” Harry yelled. “Shut. The fuck. UP!”

 

He flung a curse at the painting and watched as the old woman paused for a moment, then started screaming again. She _was drooling, her eyes were rolling, the yellowing skin of her face stretched taut as she screamed, and all along the hall behind them, the other portraits_ suddenly awoke _and began to yell too_. Shuddering, _Harry actually screwed up his eyes at the noise and clapped his hands over his ears._

 

After a few moments though, Harry opened his eyes to see that everyone had cleared out of the hallway, making it possible for him to use some stronger magic. Sometimes only dark magic could silence the old bat, but Harry didn’t want to hurt anyone else. With an empty hall, Harry did what was necessary.

 

Eventually, they all quieted down—some quicker than others—and Harry was able to close the velvet curtains over the portraits. But doing so, used up all his reserves. He was _exhausted_.

 

After it was over, Beth rushed to his side. She’d stayed well-hidden in the dining room while Harry lit up the hallway with magic, but now that it was over she needed to get the young man up to his room to rest.

 

“That was stupid, Harry!” she hissed as she put an arm around Harry’s waist and led him toward the stairwell.

 

“I know. I just...don’t know another way to stop her,” the dark-haired man said.

 

Beth shook her head. “It’s _ridiculous_! There has _got_ to be a way to get that... _thing_ off the wall,” the Muggle said.

 

Harry snorted. “You would think, but...I’ve tried _everything_ ,” he said as they rounded up onto the first floor. “Permanent sticking charm, funnily enough, seems to be...permanent.” He grinned.

 

“Hmm. I’ve been thinking about that,” said Beth. “I spoke to Benji...I hope you don’t mind.”

 

Harry shrugged. “Nope.”

 

“What about...asking young Draco for help with the paintings?” she suggested.

 

“Hmm.”

 

“He’s a Black...through his mother,” she went on.

 

Harry shook his head. “So’s Andromeda and she’s already tried.”

 

“Yes, but...she’s a _disowned_ Black who’s not even on the family tree anymore, so...” Beth stopped talking—and walking, because Harry could barely take another step.

 

Harry heaved a sigh and glanced around the landing—they were on the second floor—then up the stairs again. The fourth floor seemed _so_ far!

 

“Yeah. Maybe. I’ll think about it,” he said as he started moving again. He’d had thoughts on getting the Black family tapestry repaired too. Andromeda shouldn’t have to live in house where she had to look at herself burned off the tree—not to mention a tree where her deceased daughter and grandson didn’t exist, because the tree didn’t recognize their births.

 

Beth nodded, but didn’t say another word about it as she helped the exhausted man up another two flights and into his room. She was surprised to find Draco Malfoy in the room, sitting on the couch holding a sleeping Teddy to his chest—and Draco was surprised to find her leading a magic-worn Harry straight to his bed.

 

“Would you like me to take Teddy, Harry?” Beth asked. “So you can get some rest. I don’t mind.”

 

“Naw,” the dark-haired man said as he collapsed onto his bed. “He can have his nap here with me.”

 

Beth glanced at Draco, still holding Teddy, and frowned.

 

Standing up, the blond brought the sleeping child to Harry’s bed and carefully placed him beside his godfather, but he wasn’t sure what to do with himself afterward. Teddy had cuddled up to the messy-haired man, both sighing their contentment at being together.

 

“Your wand in on your night table, Harry,” Beth said. “Try to get some rest.” Sighing, she left, leaving the door cracked open.

 

“Well then, I’ll just...go too,” Draco murmured, starting for the door.

 

“Malfoy. Could you...close the door,” Harry said with a sigh.

 

“Of course, Potter,” the blond said.

 

“And...um...couldyoustay,” he whispered quickly.

 

Draco blinked with surprise and turned around. “Excuse me?”

 

Harry huffed. “Never mind.”

 

Chuckling, Draco closed the door quietly. “I’ll stay,” he said. “If you insist.”

 

Sighing again, Harry closed his eyes. “Thanks.”

 

“Though I have no idea why,” Draco continued as he approached the side of Harry’s bed. Teddy was now curled around the stretched out man, sleeping peacefully.

 

“It’s nap time,” the dark-haired man mumbled, patting the empty spot on the bed, then promptly falling asleep.

 

For several minutes, Draco watched Harry Potter sleep. He looked completely at peace—and utterly beautiful.

 

Frowning, Draco wondered what he was thinking. He knew he shouldn’t allow himself to have such thoughts about the other man. While he’d been told over and over again that Potter didn’t hold grudges—that he’d let the past go—Draco couldn’t imagine that the other man would welcome the affection of his once enemy. Really, he should turn tail and run before he did something stupid.

 

But he couldn’t make himself leave Harry’s bedside. Instead of lying down on the bed, the way the prone man had seemed to want him to, Draco took a chair from the other side of the room and dragged it close, then sat down on it and got comfortable—as comfortable as one could possibly be on a lumpy, old chair.

**-oOo-**

 

The light in the room was quite low when Harry opened his eyes again, making him realize that he’d slept the day away. And Teddy was gone, he noted when he reached out and found the other side of the bed empty.

 

“I took him downstairs when he woke up,” said a voice. “Aunt Dromeda arrived home around half three, so...”

 

Rolling over, Harry frowned. “Malfoy? You’re still here?”

 

“You...asked me to stay,” the blond reminded him.

 

“Did I?”

 

Malfoy glared. “How often do you do that, Potter? Thoroughly exhaust yourself with dark magic, I mean?” he asked, obviously angry.

 

“It’s the portraits,” Harry started with a sigh. “Sometimes they just...make me crazy.”

 

Draco snorted. “You could have _hurt_ someone. Teddy.”

 

“Don’t lecture me, Malfoy!” Harry snapped as he rose to a sitting position. “I gave him to you and you took him out of harm’s way.”

 

“That’s not the point,” Draco said. “What about you?”

 

“What about me?”

 

Draco huffed. Was he being deliberately obtuse? “You...depleted your magic. Do you know how _dangerous_ that is?”

 

Harry raised his hand and gave it a little wave, summoning his wand effortlessly, then pointing it at the low-burning fire in the fireplace and turning it into a blaze. “I think my magic’s fine, thanks.”

 

Draco growled. “You’re an idiot!”

 

Harry chuckled. “Yes. I know you’ve always thought so,” he said, his eyes twinkling like emeralds in the firelight.

 

Draco glared at him. “I’m talking long term injury here, Potter!” the blond snapped. “It’s extremely dangerous to use so much magic all at once. You could cause irreversible damage your magical core and turn yourself into a Squib.”

 

“Would that be so bad?” Harry asked.

 

Draco frowned. “Do you really mean that?”

 

Harry shrugged, but didn’t answer.

 

“You should eat,” Draco said, getting up from his chair. “I’ll go get you something.”

 

“No need. I’m sure one of the elves is already on that,” Harry said. “They will have sensed that I’m awake now, so....”

 

Frowning again, Draco gave a clipped nod. “Does this...happen often?”

 

Harry shrugged again. “Not really. They just...know what to do. I just need to eat.”

 

Draco shook his head. “You _need_ to find a way to get that portrait down...or permanently silenced if not down,” Draco said quietly. He didn’t know why he was suddenly so concerned.

 

Harry nodded. “I’m in complete agreement, Malfoy,” he said. “About that...Beth and Benji seem to think _you_ might be able to help.”

 

Draco’s eyes widened. “ _Me_? What could _I_ do?”

 

“Well, you’re a Black, so...maybe _you_ would be able to help.”

 

Draco frowned. “Hmm. Maybe. I’ll have to think on it.”

 

Harry nodded. “Thanks.”

 

CRACK!

 

“Master Harry, Aunt Petunia has prepared you a meal,” Debby said as she moved forward. Today she was wearing a flowery purple dress and a matching bonnet with holes in the top for her ears to stick through. “And she expressed extreme displeasure that you were so careless about your health...”

 

Draco narrowed his eyes. He sensed that the little creature had cut her words off. He sensed that she’d been about to add the word _again_ at the end of her sentence, but stopped herself.

 

Already moving to get up, Harry snorted.

 

“ _See_ Potter,” Draco said, feeling vindicated. “Even your Muggle aunt agrees with me.

 

Harry rolled his eyes. “Sit down, Malfoy,” he said, gesturing at the sofa in his room. “Looks like my aunt made enough for the both of us. Beth must have told her you stayed up here with me.”

 

Without waiting for the other man to sit, Harry sat down and smiled at Debby. The house-elf instantly came forward and put down the tray of food. Soup and sandwiches, some fruit and cheese, and wine.

 

“No,” Draco started. “Well, she _might_ have, but...when I took Teddy down to Aunt Dromeda, Petunia was there...conversing to Dudley and Pansy in the kitchen, so...”

 

Harry nodded. “So then, the entire house knows you stayed up here with me. Brilliant!”

 

Draco frowned. “You _asked_ me to stay.”

 

“I wasn’t in my right mind,” Harry countered—causing Draco to clench is jaw.

“Lighten up, Malfoy. No one here gives two shites what room we eat in. Just...sit and eat.”

 

Draco glanced down at the food. “Ahh. How sweet, Potter. Dinner for two,” he said. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say your aunt was trying to set us up.”

 

Harry snorted. “Not likely,” he said, picking up a tiny triangular sandwich and shoving it into his mouth—then picking up a second one and doing the same with it.

 

The blond grimaced. “Were you raised in a barn, Potter?”

 

Harry laughed. “A cupboard, actually,” he quipped—but didn’t explain. “Are you going to sit or what?”

 

Draco glanced at the food. He _was_ hungry after sitting in Potter’s bedroom for hours watching him sleep. And worrying...only _Merlin_ knew why. Sighing, Draco shrugged and sat down. Reaching for a grape, he nibbled on it. When it was gone, he tentatively picked up a sandwich and took a small bite.

 

“You eat like a bird, Malfoy,” Harry said, his voice full of teasing as he took up a bowl of soup and sipped it—without using a spoon.

 

“You eat like a pig, Potter,” Draco responded, watching. “Do you not know how to use utensils?”

 

“Of course, but...this is easier when not sitting at a proper table. Or...maybe you’re used to eating in bed, with a house-elf hand-feeding you.” Grinning, Harry put down his own bowl and picked up Draco’s, then dipped the blond’s spoon into the liquid and held it out for the blond to eat. “Open wide.”

 

Draco just stared.

 

Harry rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on, Malfoy. Humor me. Open up.”

 

The blond swallowed hard, but did as he was told, closing his mouth—and eyes—when the dark-haired man pushed the spoon into his mouth. He almost groaned when Potter pushed the spoon down on his tongue, then tipped it up and gently pulled it from his mouth.

 

“See. Not so difficult. And good too, yeah? Aunt Petunia makes a pretty good soup,” he said. “And, to be honest, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if she _was_ trying to...” He let his words trail off.

 

Draco frowned, then shook his head. “Actually, I doubt it. She doesn’t seem too pleased about her son’s fascination with Pansy. Pansy doesn’t think your aunt likes her much.”

 

Harry chuckled. “ _Actually_ , she likes her fine. Whatever makes her Dudders happy, makes Aunt Petunia happy. Besides, I’m not Dudley. _He’s_ her son, so it’s different.”

 

“Your family is...odd,” the blond said.

 

Harry shrugged. “As is yours, Malfoy,” he said, handing the other man his bowl of soup.

 

[“Touché,” was all Draco could think of to say.](https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/touch%C3%A9)

**-oOo-**

 

Thirty minutes later, having consumed the majority of food that Debby had brought them, Harry and Draco were still sitting side by side on the sofa in Harry’s room—consuming more wine—when the Floo whooshed and in walked Ron and Hermione Weasley.

 

“Don’t these two ever come by the front door?” Draco asked snidely.

 

Harry and Hermione rolled their eyes, but Ron’s face turned magenta.

 

“What the fuck is he _doing_ in here, Harry?” the redhead burst.

 

“Ronald! _Language_!” Hermione scolded—at the same time that Harry sighed.

 

“I don’t want to have this conversation again, Ron,” said Harry, exhausted.

 

“Weasley, your friend has overtaxed himself...used too much magic on the portraits downstairs,” Draco tattled, dumbing it down for Potter’s less than bright friend. “So maybe this isn’t the best time, hmm?”

 

“Oh, Harry!” Hermione cried. “Not _again_!”

 

Harry shrugged. “They wouldn’t shut up,” he explained.

 

“But _why_? Unless there’s something you haven’t told us?” Ron prompted, ignoring the part about the use of dark magic.

 

“That’s my cue to say good night,” Draco said as he rose to his feet. “Or at least leave the room.”

 

“Coward,” Ron hissed as the blond walked by.

 

Draco just rolled his eyes. “I’ll be down in the drawing room, Potter.”

 

Harry nodded—then waited for Malfoy to close the door before he looked at his friends. They were looking at him expectantly—Ron wanted answers about Malfoy’s presence and Hermione wanted to reprimand him for using curses he knew he shouldn’t be using.

 

“Go on then,” he offered.

 

Hermione bit her lip worriedly while Ron ran a hand through his flaming orange hair and started pacing.

 

“ _Really_?” the redhead asked. “ _Malfoy_?”

 

Harry shrugged. “It’s not like he wants me back.”

 

Ron stopped pacing and turned on his friend. “Are you fucking kidding me, mate?!” he yelled. “Malfoy would _jump_ into your bed if you said the word.”

 

Harry shook his eyes. “No, he wouldn’t. He’s just—”

 

“Bullshit!” Ron roared. “Are you blind?!”

 

Harry frowned.

 

“Well, of _course_ you’re blind!” Ron ranted, pacing again—then he stopped. “It’s okay, Harry...that you’re gay. I’ve never had an issue with it. _Most_ people in the wizarding community don’t give two fucks who you sleep with. It’s just...Malfoy? _Really_?”

 

Harry sighed. “It...snuck up on me, Ron.”

 

Ron chuckled. “No it didn’t,” he said. “ Stop lying to yourself. This has been brewing for over a decade.”

 

Harry opened his mouth to contradict his friend, but Ron just kept on.

 

“Merlin, why didn’t I _see_ it? With the way you two have _always_ danced around each other. It’s so _obvious_ ,” he said. For a moment he just continued to pace, then he stopped and looked down at Harry. Harry was still sitting on the sofa, looking somewhat fearful—of rejection?—and partially surprised.

 

“It’s okay, Harry,” Ron finally said, his face softening. “He’s a _complete_ git, but...whatever.”

 

Harry sighed again, relieved. “Um. Thank you, I think. I mean, I’m not doing anything with Malfoy, but...thanks.”

 

“Yet,” Ron countered with a grim grin. “The word you left out is _yet_.”

 

On the far side of the room, Hermione huffed. While her husband discussed Malfoy with Harry, she’d moved off to the side and watched them. Ron was right, Malfoy clearly held some sort of affection for Harry and Harry reciprocated in some way, even if he hadn’t acknowledged it yet. But she was more concerned with the dark magic he’d used.

 

“This has to stop, Harry,” she whispered.

 

Harry blinked. “I can’t help my feelings, Hermione,” he said, misunderstanding.

 

Hermione held up her hand. “While I’m pleased you’ve admitted to having feelings for Malfoy, that’s not _at all_ what I was talking about. I meant your use of magic that leaves you so exhausted that you sleep for seven hours in the middle of the day.”

 

“Was it seven?” Harry asked. “I feel like it was maybe only six.”

 

Hermione glared. “I don’t think we need to quibble over the timing. Six, seven, eight hours? What’s the bloody difference?!”

 

“She has a point,” interjected Ron.

 

“You _cannot_ allow your magic to explode out like that. It’s dangerous for everyone in the house. And for you.”

 

Harry nodded. “I know. But what should I do...just allow the portraits to scream and wail every time they’re disturbed?”

 

Ron snorted. “Those bloody things are more than _disturbed_ , mate.”

 

Harry chuckled. “True that.”

 

“It’s not funny, Harry,” Hermione said—then started laughing herself. “It’s really not though.”

 

Harry nodded. “I know. And...I’ve spoken to Malfoy about them. The portraits, I mean. Beth suggested that maybe he could help...being a Black and all.”

 

Hermione frowned. “I can’t believe I didn’t consider that,” she said, clearly displeased with her own lack of thought on the matter.

 

“And I think maybe you should start using his first name...much as it disgusts me,” Ron put in. “You know, if you’re going to pursue... _that_.” He made a show of shuddering—while grinning.

 

Harry blushed. “Yeah. Probably.”

 

“About _that_ ,” Hermione started. “Do you think it’s safe?”

 

“Safe?” Harry queried.

 

She nodded. “Well, with what they were doing out there. Malfoy and Parkinson. If you...you know, pursue him, then...”

 

Harry face hardened. “How is it that you know what they were doing to survive?”

 

Hermione glanced at Ron. “George may have mentioned something or the other about the night they arrived on your doorstep,” Ron informed him.

 

“Hmm. George needs to keep his mouth shut!” Harry snapped.

 

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione started, “George didn’t mean anything by it. He was just—”

 

“I know that, but...everyone here has their own issues, Hermione,” Harry said. “And the only way it works for those of us living here is for everyone’s business to stay in-house, if you will. George wouldn’t like it if anyone here talked about him with someone who doesn’t live here, so...”

 

Hermione nodded. “You’re right,” she agreed. “I’m sorry. That doesn’t stop me from worrying about you...now that I know.”

 

“I understand. However, just keep in mind that I’m a grown man and don’t need any mothering.”

 

Hermione nodded. “All right. Please though...just be careful.”

 

Smiling, Harry said, “Always.”

 

At this, Ron snorted. “More like, _never_.”

 

They all laughed—even though it wasn’t a laughing matter.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Sorry for the delay in posting...I've gotten caught up in the Outlander series on Starz, so I've been busy watching the show (four seasons in two weeks)...and now reading the books (book one when it's light enough to see...and book five when the lighting is low and I have to use my Kindle)!
> 
> 2\. Even though I've read and reread this...over and over again...it's been a couple weeks since I've done so, which means, to my mind, it's not editted properly...but you're getting it anyway! Please let me know what errors you find...and I mean typos large or small. Thanks!

**-oOo-**

**Chapter Eleven**

**-oOo-**

 

The next evening, with the Creevies and Wolperts, was an interesting affair—if, by interesting, one meant _awkward_...and uncomfortable.

 

Harry’d managed to put an ultra-silencing charm on the portraits—a temporary fix, he knew, but it was _something_! He’d also managed to close the curtains over the portraits, putting a sticking charm on them that would last for the length of the evening. Later, he would work on getting them either down or permanently silenced—or frozen. Frozen would be good too, because then they’d just look like old Muggle paintings—though hideous ones!

 

He’d also instructed the house-elves to stay _out of sight_ for the duration of the evening. He knew that very few Muggles—even those _in the know_ —were receptive to the little creatures, so it would be best that they were just...absent. And most house-elves weren’t all that keen on having Muggles in their midst either, so it worked out well.

 

Further, everyone was asked to limit unnecessary displays of their magic—if, for nothing else, just to keep their guests more comfortable.

 

Both Dennis and Nigel assured them that all this wasn’t necessary, but Harry and Andromeda had discussed it and together they’d approached everyone else. And then, as a House they’d decided it would probably be best. After all, even though there were Muggles _in_ their home and the Ministry knew that they were there, there was no reason for unnecessary displays of magic which could bring unwanted attention to them all.

**-oOo-**

“Mr Potter. Thank you for allowing us into your home,” Mr Creevey said as he shook Harry’s hand vigorously. Harry’d just come downstairs, Teddy on his shoulders, when the doorbell clanged, so he’d lingered.

 

“Oh. Of course, sir. You’re quite welcome anytime,” Harry offered, moving his hand back to Teddy’s leg when the handshake had finished.

 

Dennis frowned and Harry wondered if maybe he didn’t really _want_ his parents visiting _anytime_. He’d have to speak with Dennis at another time and...well, maybe discuss it with the House, so that he wouldn’t make that mistake again in the future, if he had, in fact, _made_ a mistake.

 

“Mum, you remember Harry Potter, yes?” Dennis asked, turning toward his mother. She was a tiny woman, with mousy brown hair—much like Dennis’—and she looked a little skittish, as if she didn’t really want to be there. She also looked tired. The holidays must be difficult without her other son present. Harry felt for her. So many had been lost in the war. It still pained—after all this time.

 

Smiling courteously though, the woman nodded. “Yes, of course,” she said. “It’s good to see you again, Mr Potter.”

 

“It’s Harry, thanks. Just Harry,” the dark-haired man said with a grin. “And this is my godson, Teddy.” He patted Teddy’s leg, then lifted the boy from his shoulders and set him on the ground. Teddy’s hair instantly shifted to blue—causing Mrs Creevey to gasp.

 

Nice as he was, Dennis rolled his eyes, but Harry shook his head and narrowed his eyes at his small godson.

 

“ _Teddy_ ,” he said warningly.

 

Teddy glanced down at his feet. “Sorry, Harry,” he said, “but sometimes I can’t help it. I just...forget. And...we _are_ at home, so...”

 

Harry opened his mouth to scold the child, but Dennis responded instead. “It’s perfectly okay, Teddy,” he said. “This is _your_ home, after all. Besides, my parents are completely aware of where they are, so...”

 

Teddy grinned up at Dennis.

 

“Shall we go up into the drawing room and have a pre-dinner drink?” Harry suggested—the maybe calm some nerves. “While we wait for the Wolperts to arrive,” he added.

 

Mr and Mrs Creevey nodded, so Harry started back up the stairs with everyone following—and Teddy chattering the entire way up.

 

Not five minutes later—but one drink consumed—the doorbell clanged again.

 

“I’ll get it,” Nigel said excitedly as he left the room—returning shortly with two men in their mid-thirties and two children—a boy and a girl—who were around the ages of the children living in the house.

 

Everyone stood up as introductions were made.

 

“I wasn’t aware there were other children coming,” Andromeda remarked.

 

“Yes. Well, our sitter cancelled last minute and I couldn’t have called you, now could I?” Mr Wolpert said tersely. Nathan Wolpert could be somewhat irritable.

 

Harry chuckled. “I suppose not,” he said. “Well, it’s fine. There _are_ children here, so...”

 

“You have blue hair!” the girl child blurted, her eyes on Teddy.

 

“ _Nina_!” Nathan snapped.

 

“Manners, darling,” the other man reminded. His name was Nick.

 

“Well, papa, I’ve never _seen_ someone _my_ age with colored hair before,” she said. “Just bigger kids.”

 

Mr Wolpert sighed. “This is true.”

 

“And they’re usually smoking cigarettes and have piercings and tattoos,” the girl went on.

 

“All right, Nina,” Mr Wolpert said, “mind your mouth.”

 

“I like your hair,” she said to Teddy—who grinned.

 

“Dinner’s ready,” Draco Malfoy said as he breezed into the drawing room. He’d been downstairs in the kitchen giving moral support to Pansy on her night of cooking. Though, why _she_ was cooking on Muggle night, was beyond him.

 

Dudley and Petunia were down in the kitchen as well. Dudley, because he wanted to assist Pansy in any capacity that she would allow. And Petunia, because she was concerned about everything turning out _just_ right for their guests. She was a fretter—she’d _always_ been a fretter of sorts. And Pansy had been glad for the help.

 

Despite everything, the strange trio had grown close, with Draco sort of hovering on the periphery, just in case the Muggles did something to his friend. He still didn’t really trust them. A lifetime of dislike—due to upbringing—was not just something one pushed aside in a few short weeks. Part of him was jealous. His best friend was healing—and possibly moving on without him.

 

That was a silly notion though and deep down he knew it, because Pansy would _never_ just leave him. And he knew that it was good if she was healing.

**-oOo-**

“What would you like to drink with your supper, sir?” Harry asked Mr Creevey. Everyone was seated and he’d turned to the sideboard where he had several open bottles of wine and an array of other beverages.

 

“Hmm. I would love a tall glass of milk,” the older man said.

 

“Oh. Um. I think we have that,” said Harry, with a glance at Andromeda—it was, however, Beth who responded with a nod.

 

“Oh yes,” she said, standing up. “I’ll just...go down and get some. I’d meant to bring some up for the children.”

 

“No need.” Dennis got up. “I’ll do it. Dad prefers milk with meals. He’s a milkman, you know. I should have made sure it was on the table.”

 

Usually, if they’d forgotten something, they’d just have one of the house-elves fetch it for them, but seeing as they’d been banned from sight for the night...

 

Mr Creevey smiled. “Very good. Thank you, son.”

 

Dennis smiled at his father. “Of course, dad,” he said and disappeared.

 

“Mrs Creevey, would you like milk as well?” Harry asked.

 

She frowned. She’d had two glasses of wine up in the drawing room and was now quite relaxed. “Wine will do, thank you,” she said.

 

Harry nodded, but when he went to pour, Mr Creevey held out a hand to take the bottle and poured for his wife—just a half glass though, as she already looked relaxed enough to him.

 

Frowning, Harry glanced at his aunt—and could clearly see that she too was reminded of Vernon Dursley. It was written all over her face... _another_ controlling man!

 

Quickly though, Dennis reappeared with a carafe of milk, poured his father a glass, then handed it to Beth, who poured for all the children, then set it on the table.

 

Mr Creevey frowned. “It won’t stay cold there. Shouldn’t someone put it back in the fridge?”

 

“It’s got a chilling charm on it, dad,” Dennis said quietly.

 

“Oh. I see. Well then...” the man started—then stopped.

 

“So then,” Harry started after an awkward, though short, pause. “Let’s tuck in. Thank you, Park...er...Pansy...for doing the cooking tonight.”

 

Pansy bit her lip and dipped her head. This wasn’t her first cooked meal for the House, but it _was_ her first formal supper—and for guests. _Muggle_ guests, no less. So she was nervous.

 

“Relax. You did fine, dear,” Petunia said as she placed a hand on the younger woman’s forearm.

 

Pansy beamed at the praise, then picked up her fork.

 

“So, Mr Wolpert, what is it that _you_ do?” Beth asked their other guest—to distract from Pansy’s discomfiture.

 

“I’m a journalist. I work for _The Gaurdian_ ,” the man said.

 

“Oh! Our Colin...he once wished to find work there,” Mrs Creevey said. “How is it?”

 

“Good actually,” he said as he wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Especially now that all that business with that madman has finished.”

 

Everyone just sort of stared at him.

 

“Well, obviously we know about you lot,” he said as he gave a sort of wide gesture about the room, then picked up his wine glass and took a sip. “Being related to Nigel and all. Though, how the general public doesn’t see what’s going on all around them is _beyond_ me.”

 

“ _Related_?” Draco couldn’t help asking. It was odd...having all these strange Muggles about. Beth and Petunia were one thing. In the weeks he and Pansy had been in the house, he’d gotten used to them a bit, but these new ones were...peculiar.

 

“Mr Wolpert is Nigel’s _uncle_ ,” Harry explained to the blond, then looked back at Nathan Wolpert. “I met your brother and sister-in-law once. Nice people.”

 

“Yes. They were,” he said stiffly. “It’s a shame that—”

 

“Pass the potatoes, love,” the other man said quickly, cutting Nathan off.

 

Draco frowned at this, confused. He’d thought the other man _was_ Nigel’s father, but obviously not. It was clear now that he watched the two men that they were together. Though most of the wizarding world had no issue with homosexuality, his father absolutely did and he didn’t really have much experience with the tolerant sort.

 

“Is that acceptable in the Muggle world?” he blurted.

 

Nathan Wolpert’s eyes narrowed. “Is _what_ acceptable?”

 

Draco gestured at them. “You two. Together.”

 

Nathan’s face immediately took on a look of anger—as if he thought the blond had something against them—but his partner chuckled. “Certainly not to everyone, but....” He shrugged. “It’s becoming more and more so with every passing year. Why do you ask? Is it different in your world?” he asked, clearly interested.

 

Draco frowned, then shrugged. “My father wasn’t too pleased,” he admitted. _There_! he’d said it outright! To the entire room.

 

For several moments the room was silent, then Pansy reached out and took Draco’s hand. “Lucius is a _cunt_ , darling,” she hiss-whispered—then glanced around the table, her cheeks pinking. “Er. Sorry. I forgot there were children present.”

 

Andromeda burst out laughing. “That he is,” she said, agreeing with Pansy’s statement. “Sorry Draco, but....”

 

Draco sighed. He’d once adored his father. Had worshipped the ground the man walked on, but after everything that had happened, he’d lost all respect for the man. In the time since the older man had been incarcerated, Draco’d not visited him one time. In the beginning he just couldn’t make himself go. The pain and anger over it all had been too much. Later, he’d not been able to afford to go. He still couldn’t afford to go, but suddenly he wished that he could. His father might not be happy with the way he lived his life, but the man was _still_ his father.

 

“I’m sorry, Draco,” Andromeda repeated when it was clear her nephew was struggling with his composure.

 

“It’s fine, Aunt Dromeda,” he said quietly.

 

“So...” Mr Creevey said, clearing his throat, “a full house you seem to have here, Mr Potter.”

 

Harry nodded. “Yes. Sometimes more so than others.”

 

“Is this a hotel?” the little girl Nina asked.

 

Rebecca Ellsworth giggled.

 

And, from the far end of the table, George Weasley chuckled. “No. It’s just a big house and Harry let’s all his friends and frenemies stay here.”

 

“What’s a _frenemy_?” Nina asked.

 

This time it was Theo who responded. “Like a friend, but not.”

 

“What does that _mean_?” the girl asked.

 

“Some of us didn’t get along in school,” George explained.

 

“But you do now?” she pushed.

 

George shrugged. “Mostly, I suppose. No reason not to anymore,” he said, his eyes on Draco Malfoy. George couldn’t say they were friends—nor had he put the past aside—but they were getting along just fine.

 

“Can I see your room?” Nina asked next, her gaze going to Rebecca.

 

Rebecca glanced at her mother and Beth nodded. “I suppose that’s possible... _after_ supper, if Nina’s fathers don’t object.”

 

Nathan Wolpert frowned, but his husband nodded exuberantly. “Fine, fine.”

 

“If the five of you stick together and get along,” Andromeda added, knowing the children’s inclination to bicker.

 

“We’ll get along, grandmother,” Teddy promised. All the children nodded.

 

“Promises, promises,” Andromeda said with a knowing smile.

**-oOo-**

After supper had come to a close, everyone moved their little gathering back up to the drawing room—where it was still just a little bit awkward.

 

“Are you sure it’s...safe for the children...to go off into the house?” Mr Wolpert said—not so quietly—to his nephew.

 

Nigel glanced at Harry first, then started to respond—only to be cut off by another.

 

“Do you think the house and its occupants are evil?” Draco asked the man. “That the children will be swallowed up?”

 

“Draco!” Andromeda and Pansy hissed, the former with a reprimanding tone, the latter with wide-eyed worry—both shocked by his words.

 

“ _Malfoy_...” Harry growled warningly.

 

“ _What_?” Draco asked. “It’s a fair question, considering _his_ question.”

 

Harry just eyed the blond.

 

“I mean, _really_ ,” Draco continued. “What sort of _guest_ , makes a comment like _that_ , right in front of his host? It’s just... _rude_.”

 

Harry sighed, his eyes going to Andromeda. Malfoy was not wrong, after all.

 

“Draco, this is not the time—” Andromeda began tersely.

 

“It’s fine, Andromeda,” Nigel said to the woman—then looked at his family. “The house is safe, Uncles. I promise you. I’ve lived here safely for five years.”

 

Mr Wolpert hmm’d. “Well yes, but you have magic, which our children do not!” he semi-snapped.

 

“ _Nathan_!” the husband barked, surprising Nigel—who’d never heard the other man raise his voice before.

 

“And how long have _you_ lived here, Mr Malfoy?” Nathan asked, ignoring both husband and nephew.

 

Draco blinked, surprised. “Pansy and I...just joined the household.”

 

“And what was it you were doing _prior_ to coming here?” Mr Creevey inquired.

 

Dennis rolled his eyes. “Dad! _Please_.”

 

“I’m just asking,” the older man said. “Do we not have a right to know about the people our _only_ son lives with?”

 

Mrs Creevey tried to hold in a gasp, but failed—then finished off her wine.

 

“Don’t think that we don’t know what that tattoo on your arm means, son,” Nathan Wolpert said to Draco.

 

Frowning, Draco tugged at his shirt sleeve—which he’d pushed up without thinking, because he was feeling a bit warm under their scrutiny—then glanced at Pansy. She was sitting with Dudley and looking even more worried now than she had looked before. Sighing, Draco stood up and looked at Harry before finishing off his drink.

 

“Suddenly, I’m not feeling altogether well, so I’ll take my leave and just...go up to my room,” he said to their host.

 

Nodding, Harry tried to hide his own distress. In this case, he felt 100% on Malfoy’s side and yet, because those behaving badly were their guests—and Dennis and Nigel’s family—he didn’t quite know what to say or do.

 

Sighing, Draco turned their guests and continued. “I apologize for any upset I may have caused by my presence. Especially you, Mrs Creevey,” he said, his gray eyes on the tearful woman. “All I can say is that...I was young and got caught up in things that were set in motion before I was born. I do not deny that I wasn’t a good person. All I can do now is work on improving who I used to be.”

 

With that, he nodded at everyone, then left the room.

 

Frowning, Pansy moved to follow, but Andromeda placed a hand on her shoulder and said, “Let him go. He needs to brood, I think.”

 

Both Dennis and Nigel looked embarrassed, but, moments later, the five children returned to the room, a stream of giggles with them, causing everyone’s attention to shift—and the mood to lighten.

**-oOo-**

Stiffly, Draco walked out of the drawing room with the intention of going straight up to his room. He was frustrated and angry—but also hurt. It was true he’d been an absolute shit growing up. He’d given Potter and company hell over the years. It was also true he’d been a Death Eater. Not that he’d _wanted_ to be one, mind! He’d done what was expected of him. He hadn’t had a choice! Well, he supposed that he did—have a choice—but it would have meant certain death for himself and his parents if he’d refused, so...not _really_ a choice, was it? And after the war, _his_ life had been hell—not that anyone cared. He’d basically disappeared from the magical community and nobody gave two shits about where he was and/or what he was doing. What he did after the war, he did to survive—and he hadn’t hurt anyone but himself. Neither had Pansy. He and Pansy were all the other had.

 

But now they were _here_! At _Potter’s_ House! And, it seemed, he didn’t have Pansy anymore, because she was drifting towards the Muggle. Not that Draco blamed her for wanting _something_ for herself. No, Draco didn’t blame her a bit!

 

Draco’d reached the staircase leading up into the house, but he stopped at the railing that looked down into the foyer and heaved a sob. His eyes burning, he blinked and let his tears fall. _Before_ , he was stuck at the Manor with his parents and their evil Dark Lord. _Then_ , he was stuck on the streets with nowhere to go and very little to eat. _Now_ , he was stuck at Potter’s with all the misfits. Would anything _ever_ change?!

 

Sighing, Draco turned and sat down on the steps behind him and did just what his aunt thought he would do—brood. Except he couldn’t even seem to find the energy to make it up a flight of stairs to go into his room to do it. Nope, he just sat there with tears streaming down his pale face.

 

He sat there so long that his bum started to get numb and he wished he’d brought a glass of wine out with him. Or a bottle. Yes, a bottle would have done the trick—if only for a few hours.

 

Not long later he heard the doors to the drawing room open again and knew that their guests were leaving—thank the gods! Standing, he moved back over to the railing, so that he could gaze down into the foyer again. He stood there watching, keeping himself just far enough back in the shadows that he hoped no one would see him up there spying if they glanced up. It appeared that they didn’t. After the door closed, he sighed quietly with relief. It was over.

**-oOo-**

“I _liked_ them, Harry,” Teddy squealed as he raised his arms and jumped up and down, wanting to be picked up by his godfather.

 

Harry chuckled. “I couldn’t tell at _all_ ,” he said as he gathered the boy in his arms. “It is, however, past your _bedtime_ , little man.”

 

Teddy pouted. “Do I _have_ to? Bed is _boring_.”

 

Harry laughed again. His godson was clearly wound up, but it _was_ time to call it a night. “I’m afraid so, buddy,” he said, giving Teddy’s belly a poke, then kneeling down to set the boy back on his feet. “Why don’t you go up and get your teeth brushed, then I’ll come say good night.”

 

Teddy grinned. “Can I sleep I your room again?”

 

“Not tonight. Don’t you remember that it’s your gran’s turn to read you stories?”

 

Teddy nodded. “Yes, but...where’s cousin Draco? I want to say goodnight to him too.”

 

Harry glanced up and saw a quick flash of white blond hair move backward, out of sight. “Hmm. You go on up and I’ll see if I can find him.”

 

Teddy grinned. “Okay!” he all but yelled.

 

Smiling, Harry watched Teddy run up the stairs, hoping he made it up to the room he shared with his grandmother without getting distracted—and hoping he didn’t run into Malfoy on the way up, since the blond was basically hiding on the stairs.

 

On his own way up, Harry stopped in the drawing room again, just to make sure it had been tidied up. It had been. The house-elves were quick when it came time to shut down evening activities. Nodding, because everything was in perfect order, Harry went to the liquor cabinet and pulled out a bottle of red, poured himself a glass, and then headed out to go upstairs.

 

When Harry reached the next floor landing, he saw Malfoy sitting on the bottom steps of the back staircase.

 

“You sleeping on the stairs tonight?” Harry asked.

 

Malfoy pulled a face. “ _More_ wine, Potter?” the blond said sarcastically.

 

Harry laughed. “Always,” he said, then brought his glass to his mouth and took a sip—and then another. “I should probably cut back,” he said with a laugh before taking yet another sip.

 

Draco watched him, then sighed and stood up. “I suppose you’d like me to leave,” he said quietly when Potter hadn’t said anything for a few moments.

 

“ _What_?!” the dark-haired man burst, his green eyes wide. “ _No_! Shite, Malfoy, that wasn’t your fault down there. Dennis and Nigel feel awful about the way you were treated. Just relax, okay? You _live_ here now, so...”

 

Draco just sort of stared at him—his ex-rival. “Just like that?”

 

Harry shrugged. “Just like that.”

 

Shaking his head, Draco laughed. It was sort of a huffed laugh, like he couldn’t believe his luck—or like he’d found himself in an alternate universe—but it was a laugh nonetheless. “You don’t just extend an olive branch, do you? You fling the entire bloody tree.”

 

This time Harry laughed—exuberantly. “Something like that.”

 

“So...your cousin’s in my room again,” the blond blurted—as an answer to Harry’s earlier question.

 

“Ahh. I see, so...you _can’t_ go in there to sleep...or do otherwise,” deduced Harry.

 

“Yeah. I’d rather not.”

 

“Well then, come up and say goodnight to Teddy with me...he wants to be tucked in by the both of us anyway, which I’m sure you heard...since you were standing on the balcony eavesdropping,” he said with a grin.

 

Draco huffed. “I was not and...the kid was practically yelling. I’m sure the entire house heard him!”

 

Harry laughed as he started up the stairs. “So...you coming? It’ll give you something to do for a few minutes. Maybe Big D will clear out of your room by the time we’re done.”

 

Draco snorted. “Not likely, but...all right,” he said with a shrug as he got up and followed the dark-haired man.

 

“Then you can come up to my room...we’ll have a few more drinks,” Harry continued.

 

“Sounds like you’re trying to get me drunk, Potter,” the blond said.

 

“Oh, fuck off, Malfoy!”

 

Draco chuckled. “Scared, Potter?”

 

“You wish!” Harry said with a smirk.

 

“You’re very...flirty when you’re drinking,” Draco observed.

 

Harry rolled his eyes—and took another sip of his wine. “Have you ever watched television, Malfoy?”

 

“That’s some Muggle thing, isn’t it?” said Draco, an unsure look on his face.

 

Harry snorted a laugh. “Don’t look so disgusted.”

 

“I’m not _disgusted_ , per se,” the blond denied. “Just... _wary_.”

 

“It’s just telly, Malfoy. It can’t hurt you. I promise.”

 

“I know. I’ve...um...watched it a few times,” he admitted. “Pansy and I stayed in a cheap Muggle hotel a couple times and she found some ridiculous program to watch. It was absurd, but entertaining...for her. And, this one time, we went into a pub and found a bunch of Muggles shouting at the bloody thing. They were watching some sort of Muggle sport. It looked completely random and disorganized...and _undignified_. I wasn’t even sure what—”

 

Harry rolled his eyes. “ _Anyway_...”

 

The gray eyed man huffed again—then appeared to think it over for a few moments—then he shrugged. “Yeah. All right. Muggle _telly_ it is then...as long as you keep filling my wine glass.”

 

“Now _that_ , I can do.”

**-oOo-**

Three hours later, they were lying on Harry’s bed, completely shit-faced, and giggling stupid over some ridiculous commercial.

 

“Can you _imagine_?” said Harry.

 

Draco sniggered. “Actually. No.”

 

Still grinning, Harry rolled over and got up. “Need to have a piss,” he said as he head to his en suite.

 

Draco snorted. “You are so crass.”

 

Harry just laughed and shut the door.

 

While Harry was gone, Draco took a deep breath and glanced around the room. He couldn’t believe he was here—in a real house, in a real bed. Harry Potter’s bed, no less. It was surreal—and surprisingly enjoyable. Draco sighed.

 

And then the dark-haired man was back—he’d changed into his pyjamas, Draco noticed—plopping down on the bed beside the blond.

 

“I’m exhausted. I’m going to be _sooo_ tired in the morning,” he said as he lay back and closed his eyes.

 

Still leaning back on the pillows against the headboard, Draco looked at the other man and frowned. “Why do you get up so early? It’s not like you have to go anywhere.”

 

Cracking an eye open, Harry glanced at the more upright man beside him. “Can’t help it most days. I just...wake up,” he said, doing a shrug-like thing that looked more like he was snuggling deeper into his bed. “And then there’s Teddy. On the nights he stays in here, he wakes me up, so...on the rare occasion that my body clock even _considers_ allowing me to sleep in...the little shit prevents it. I don’t mind though,” he finished, closing his eyes again. “I adore the little fucker.”

 

Draco chuckled. “Well, I...um. Hmm. I supposed I should leave you to it then,” he said as he got to his feet.

 

The jostling of the bed had Harry’s eyes open again. “You should stay,” he suggested. “I mean, Dudley’s probably still be in your room, so...”

 

Frowning, Draco hmm’d again. “And what would the righteous Ronald Bilius Weasley think of that? Us hanging out in your room half the night and me sleeping in your bed?”

 

Harry barked out another laugh, his eyes sparkling like emeralds in the room’s fire light. “Ron would _hate_ it!”

 

Draco glanced at the fireplace, then back at the prone man.

 

Harry rolled his eyes and waved a hand at his fireplace to ward the Floo. “All safe from Ron now,” he said.

 

Still frowning, Draco bit his lip. “But...what _would_ your friends say?” Draco asked again.

 

“Who the fuck cares!” Harry burst. “Who I spend my time with is nobody’s business, but my own...and whoever I’m spending it with. And, surprisingly, I enjoy your company. Go figure. Are you staying?”

 

“I have nothing to sleep in,” was Draco’s next objection.

 

Harry sighed. “You have a few options here, Malfoy. You can leave and go back to your room and maybe have to deal with Pansy and Dudley.” Harry shuddered at this. “Or you could stay. I have extra jammies. Just open a drawer and pick some. There’s even a pair green bottoms, so you’re tender eyes won’t be offended.” He grinned. “ _Or_ you could just strip down and sleep in your t-shirt and pants. Unless you’re going commando. If that’s the case, then... _please_ find something of mine.”

 

Draco snorted. “I am _not_ going commando.”

 

Harry laughed. “And sometime you’ll have to explain how you know what that means.”

 

“I will not,” Draco said adamantly, his face tinged pink.

 

“Fine then, either leave or...take off your clothing and get into bed,” Harry commanded. “I’m totally smashed and... _sooo_ fucking tired. I need sleep.”

 

Draco watched the other man yawn and roll over. He cast another glance at the closed Floo—then at the door. He wondered if it too was locked. Probably not. Harry didn’t like to lock his door—just in case Teddy came up. Sometimes the boy snuck out of his gran’s room in the middle of the night and crawled into his godfather’s bed—which meant _anyone_ could come traipsing in. Anyone in the house or...anyone like Ronald Weasley—who seemed to have no boundaries. The last thing Draco needed was the redhead convincing Potter that he shouldn’t have a Malfoy in his house.

 

“Oh. For fuck’s sake, Malfoy! Make a decision!” Potter growled.

 

Sighing, Draco stripped down and crawled into Potter’s large comfy bed—making sure not to touch the other man—then stared at the ceiling until he was able to fall asleep. It took quite a while.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I noted back in chapter...idk...ten? that I was struggling with chapter twelve, because it was...repeaty. So, yeah...it's a bit repetitive. You'll have to deal with it. Sorry, not sorry. Lol.

**-oOo-**

**Chapter Twelve**

**-oOo-**

 

“What. The fuck, man?!” a voice hollered, waking both Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy the next morning.

 

Harry bolted upright and rubbed his sleep-filled eyes. “What the hell, Ron?!” he hissed.

 

Groaning, Draco moved to sit up too, but had to squirm out from underneath Teddy, who’d obviously found his way into the room sometime during the night or early morning—and who still appeared to be sleeping soundly. Though _how_ , was beyond the groggy blond.

 

“Ever heard of fucking knocking?” Harry growled at his friend.

 

“Ever heard of not dicking around with Malfoy, mate?!” Ron snapped. “And the door wasn’t even closed. Geez! It’s like you don’t give a shite about _who_ sees you two sleeping together.”

 

Twisting his neck to get the kinks out, Harry glanced down to see a sleeping boy between him and the blond in his bed, then he looked up and glared at his friend. “I don’t, Ron! _Fuck_! And we were just _sleeping_ , you arse! As if it’s any of your bloody business who I sleep with anyway!” he snapped.

 

Ron’s face reddened.

 

“Salazar! You two are like children!” Draco said as he ripped the covers off himself and got up. “And, there _is_ a child in the room, by the way, if you’ve not noticed! One that might, I don’t know, start repeating all the lovely profanities you two are tossing about. Loudly, I might add...first thing in the morning! When I have a bleeding headache!” he growled as he grimaced and pinched the bridge of his nose, then swept across the room and into the bathroom to use the toilet, closing the door with a harsh click—causing Harry to cringe, then look down at Teddy again, who was _still_ asleep.

 

“So. You _are_ sleeping with him,” Ron said blandly.

 

Harry sighed. “First, as I pointed out previously, it’s none of your business who I take to my bed...even if it were Malfoy! Second, I feel like we’ve already gone through all this. Wait! Yes. I _know_ we did! And I think you gave me your blessing to... _how_ did you phrase it? I think it was, ‘pursue _that_!’ Are we stuck in a time loop or something here?! You know, one where I constantly have to deal with you storming into _my_ bedroom and giving me the third degree? And _third_...we’re not _sleeping_ together, Ron,” said Harry. “Not...like _that_! We were actually just sleeping!”

 

“Yeah, that’s what you said last time,” Ron said. “Except, _last_ time you two weren’t in your bed with him nearly naked.” The red-haired man pulled a face, clearly revolted by the image. “I might have to go wash me eyes out.”

 

Rolling _his_ eyes, Harry got up and gestured at himself. “Oh my _God_ , Ron! As you can plainly see, I’m fully dressed in my sleeping clothes, so....”

 

Ron huffed. “It’s only a matter of time, mate...before they start falling off. And I’m just...worried about you, is all,” he said—then glared at the blond, who’d just opened the bathroom door.

 

Harry laughed. “If you think that, then maybe you should just...give it a freaking rest,” he said with a grin. “Now, I’m going to go use the restroom, maybe you could either be in a better mood when I return, so you can tell me _why_ the bloody hell you barged in uninvited and woke me up...or, you know, don’t let the door hit you in the arse on the way out!”

 

Draco snorted. “Or _do_ let it hit you,” he said snidely.

 

Ron continued to glare at the blond. “What are you playing at, Ferret?” he said after the bathroom door had closed.

 

“Not a damned thing, Weasel!” Draco snapped, his gray eyes narrowing.

 

“Then why do I keep finding you ‘ _sleeping’_ in Harry’s room?”

 

“Not that it’s any of your concern, Weasley, but my room was...occupied,” said Draco. “And, unlike _you_ , Potter was kind enough to invite me up to watch telly. And we fell asleep. Nothing more.”

 

“In his bed?”

 

“People usually do sleep in beds, you know,” Draco said. “It’s quite simple. One would think even _your_ simple mind could figure it out.”

 

“I meant the watching television part, you git!” Ron snapped, his face red.

 

“Careful there, Weasley, you might burst a vessel.”

 

“Stay away from him, Malfoy!” Ron warned. “He’s too good for you.”

 

Draco snorted a derisive laugh. “I’m well aware,” he said as he headed for the closed bedroom door. He felt hot tears burning and needed to get away before they were seen, because...Malfoys were _not_ seen crying!

 

Harry, just coming out of the loo saw the blond disappear, the door closing behind him. “I heard most of that, Ron,” he said. “And I’ll have you know that I neither want, nor need you protecting me. I’m not some damsel in distress!”

 

“Harry. Mate—”

 

“Stop! Right there, Ron!” Harry snapped, cutting in. “Listen to me. Please. I do not want you warning people away from me.”

 

“But it’s _Malfoy_!”

 

“And I repeat...I do not want you warning people away from me,” he said. “I don’t care _who_ it is! Despite everything, I’m fully capable of taking care of myself.”

 

Ron frowned, completely perplexed by what was going on. “I know.”

 

Harry watched for a moment, as his friend processed his words—then continued. “Right now we’re just hanging out. Just drinking and watching telly...and talking. Getting over the past. I think it’s good for both of us. And it’s been entertaining and educational, and...I have to admit that I sort of like him. He’s good with Teddy and Teddy likes him too. And he’s snarky and...surprisingly funny...in a _never would have thought it possible_ sort of way. And he’s...easy on the eyes.”

 

Ron snorted. “Oh Merlin, Harry. What is _wrong_ with you?!”

 

Harry chuckled. “I haven’t a clue, mate.”

 

“Really? _Malfoy_?”

 

Harry shrugged. “You’ve said that already. Numerous times. It’s getting old.”

 

Ron just sighed.

 

“Now, the question is...are you going to remember this conversation the next time you come tromping in?”

 

“I dunno. Maybe not.”

 

Harry chuckled. “Well, do try, because...if it happens again, I’m warding the house against you!”

 

“You wouldn’t,” the redhead said with surprise.

 

“Well, maybe not the entire house...maybe just anything above the ground floor,” Harry amended with a snirk.

**-oOo-**

 

“Mornin’ blondie!” George Weasley said as he came down the stairs and saw Draco standing, lost in his own thoughts, just outside Harry’s room—in a rumpled t-shirt, his underpants, and socked feet, with a pair of trousers over one arm and shoes clutched in the other.

 

“Harry throw you out? Lover’s spat, was it?” the redhead queried, grinning madly.

 

Scowling, Draco attempted to brush past the red-haired man, but halted when he was grabbed by the shirt sleeve. George Weasley then looked him up and down, an eyebrow raised over what he was wearing—or _not_ wearing, as the case may be.

 

“Whoa! Where you running off too...almost naked, pretty boy.”

 

Huffing, Draco yanked himself out of the slightly older man’s grasp and moved to put on his trousers, which he’d not seen fit to put on _before_ leaving Potter’s cozy bedroom.

 

_Oh Merlin! I did_ not _I just think that about Potter’s bedroom?!_ Draco frowned as he busied himself. _What the fuck?!_

 

“It’s not...what it looks like, _Weasley_!” he snapped as he fastened his trousers, then slipped his shoes on.

 

“Come now. We’ve gone over this. You’re only allowed to use the last name on Ronald,” George reminded. “Think of me as...the older brother you never had but always wanted.”

 

Draco snorted. “For your information, I have always _adored_ being an only child,” he drawled.

 

George grinned. “Uh-huh. Right.”

 

The blond huffed again. “It’s just that...your brother...your _actual_ brother...he makes me so...”

 

“ _Inarticulate_?” George offered, still grinning.

 

Draco glared. “No! Well, yes, sometimes.”

 

George chuckled. “Well, he _is_ a git, I’ll give you that. We all know it. Second only to Perce, of course. Best to just get over it and not let him get to you. Otherwise you’re going to be in _this_ state quite often,” he said with a gesture at the blond. “Though...with any hope...less disheveled. It really doesn’t suit.”

 

Draco tried not to smile—which was hard, because George Weasley was amusing and extremely difficult not to like.

 

“Let me guess. He barged in while you two were going at it,” George guessed, making a rude gesture, “and had a meltdown.”

 

Draco chortled. “There was no ‘ _going at it_ ,’ but...yes to the rest of it.”

 

George moved his eyebrows up and down and grinned lasciviously. “Not even last night? Really? Hmm. That’s too bad. I was _sure_ it was going to happen.”

 

Draco rolled his eyes. “No. Merlin. Is that all you Weasleys think Potter and I are capable of?”

 

George shrugged. “Yeah. Fucking and fighting. Isn’t that all there is for you two?” he asked. “Ron still in there?”

 

Draco nodded.

 

“Okay. I’ll go sort the arsehat. You go down and shower and...put on some clean clothing, for Merlin’s sake! Then come back up,” George instructed—then he frowned and shook his head. “No. Scratch that. Go shower and get dressed...and meet us in the kitchen for breakfast.” With that he gave the blond a little shove toward the stairs, then turned and breezed into Harry’s room—without knocking, making Draco wonder what the fuck was wrong with the Weasleys. Absolutely no decorum. Zero!

**-oOo-**

 

“Good mornin’ little brothers,” he said loudly to the room at large as he entered.

 

“GEORGE!” screamed Teddy, his hair going from Potter black to Weasley red as he jumped up and down on Harry’s bed.

 

Grinning, George grabbed the little boy and swung him around. “What’s up, Lil’ Lupin?”

 

“I sneaked up into Uncle Harry’s room last night while he was sleeping and...guess what?”

 

George’s eyes went wide. “What?”

 

“Cousin Draco was in Harry’s bed having another sleep over, so...I crawled in between and cuddled them. And you know what?”

 

“What?”

 

“They must’ve been really tired, ‘cause they didn’t wake up at all.”

 

“Hmm. I bet they were,” George agreed, snickering—which caused Ron to look just a little bit ill.

 

“Okay Teddy,” Harry cut in. “Run down to your room and get dressed. Your gran’s probably wondering where you are.”

 

Laughing, George set the boy on the ground and watched him go. “I doubt it. Andromeda knows he’s probably with you.”

 

Harry shrugged. “Yeah, but I’d like to get dressed in peace, so...”

 

“Sooo. How was your tryst, Harry?” George asked, causing both Harry and Ron to groan.

 

“Merlin! Would you two give it a rest?!” Harry burst. “You’re constantly hoping Malfoy and I are shagging and Ron’s nearly going spare over seeing us in the same room!”

 

“Nearly naked!” burst Ron.

 

George snickered. “Yes. I saw the little twat rushing out. Seemed to be...in _quite_ a state.”

 

“Wait! You’ve been _trying_ to get Harry and Malfoy to...?” Ron burst, suddenly comprehending what his friend had said.

 

George shrugged. “At least one of us should be getting some.”

 

“ _I’m_ getting some, so...” Ron informed them.

 

George made a point of retching. “Sorry. You don’t count, Ronnikins. You’re married and...you don’t live here, so I’m not at all interested in your bedroom activities.”

 

Ron huffed. “I count. I’m Harry’s best mate, so I certainly _do_ count.”

 

“Ron, I absolutely do not give two shits about whether or not you’re getting any from my _other_ best friend,” Harry informed the man. “And George, do not think I don’t know about you sneaking out to meet up with only Godrick knows who.”

 

George barked out a laugh. “Would you like to know what I’ve up to?”

 

Harry shook his head. “No. I really wouldn’t.”

 

George laughed again.

 

“What are you up to, George?” Ron asked his brother. “And I’m talking about...with Harry and Malfoy.”

 

“It’s none of your concern, little brother,” George said, giving Ron a friendly pat on the back. “Now, seeing as you don’t...live here, that is...you should just skedaddle!” He made a shooing motion. “Go on now, I have important things to discuss with Harry here. Things that are not for _your_ ears.”

 

Ron rolled his eyes. “Harry?”

 

Harry sighed. “What is it, Ron?”

 

“I...was hoping that...we could maybe go get a beer tonight,” he said. “Hermione’s working late and...Dean, Neville, and Seamus are all in town, so.... You need to get out of this house, mate! You know, for your mental health.”

 

Harry gave his friend a look, as if suspicious they were still on the same topic.

 

“No, really, Harry,” Ron said. “You’re home all the time and, as we’ve established, everyone here has...issues. You need to do this.”

 

Sighing, Harry shrugged. “Yeah. Okay. Sounds good.”

 

Ron brightened. “Really? Brilliant!” he exclaimed, not giving Harry a chance to think on it more. “I’ll pick you up ‘round six, yeah?” He was already on his way to the Floo.

 

“All right. But...er...next time...maybe knock?” the green-eyed man said. “You know, just in case.”

 

Ron groaned, but nodded—then Flooed home.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sooo sorry I haven't posted in a while. I'm on day nine of thirteen days of work in a row and I'm just sooo tired. But here's the next chapter...

**-oOo-**

**Chapter Thirteen**

**-oOo-**

Draco had gone to his room—sneaking in because Pansy was still asleep—and showered, as George had instructed. _Why_ he was following a Weasley’s commands was beyond his comprehension, but he did feel better after having washed off the night’s drinking, with Potter—and thoughts of unpleasant conversation, with the Weasel. How Ronald Weasley was _still_ capable of driving him mad was another question that deserved some consideration. Or maybe not. Maybe he should just make every attempt to ignore the red-haired fucker!

 

After finishing his morning routine, he’d quietly gone back into the room for clothing—in a _towel_! Why he’d not thought to bring clothing _into_ their en-suite washroom was beyond him, but...c’est la vie.

 

Oddly enough, the armoire in the room seemed to be full of attire that he found moderately acceptable—nothing like he’d grown up with, but better than what he had been wearing—so he pulled some underpants (hunter green), a pair of trousers (charcoal), and a shirt (heather), then put on his socks and shoes. He didn’t know where it was all coming from. No one had asked him about sizing. The clothing and footwear just seemed to appear and it fit perfectly—as if it had been made for him—so he put it on and hadn’t inquired about its appearance. Mentally, he made a note to ask someone—not Potter—how it all came to be in his room.

 

Pansy’s armoire, on the other side of the room, was the same—much to her delight—and _she_ was questioning nothing!

 

Sighing, Draco glanced at his friend. She was still out cold—lying flat on her back, which told him how comfortable she felt here. She would not have been in such a vulnerable position if she wasn’t completely at ease. Must have been a late night, he decided as he headed for the door—closing it as quietly as was possible.

 

Out on the landing, the somewhat overweight Dudley Dursley had just come up the stairs with a tray of food. He looked slightly disheveled, but he was dressed and looked more than a bit pleased with himself.

 

“Um. Pansy awake yet?” he asked with a crooked smile.

 

Draco shook his head. “Not in the slightest,” he responded.

 

Dudley immediately deflated. “I made her breakfast,” he said with a nod at his tray. “And...she said she likes pumpkin juice, so....I had Beth find me some.”

 

Draco glanced at the food the other man was carrying and nodded. “I’m not sure she can eat all that, but she’ll love the juice.”

 

Dudley grinned. “Well, some of it’s for me, of course.”

 

Draco hmm’d. “Look. Pansy’s...my best friend and I have to admit that I’m concerned about your intentions,” Draco said, deciding to be direct.

 

Dudley blinked. “Oh. Yeah. We’re just...um...I like her a lot,” he said, his cheeks pinking up.

 

“Yes. I can see as much. And surprisingly, she seems to like you too, but...” Draco frowned. That had come out completely wrong, but the other man didn’t seem to have taken it like it may have sounded. “I mean...she’s a witch and you’re a Muggle,” he said, trying very hard to keep the censure out of his tone.

 

Dudley snorted a laugh. “I’m well aware, thanks. Kind of difficult not to be.”

 

Draco huffed. “It’s just...she would be disowned if her family found out.”

 

Dudley snorted again, this time with zero amusement. “And they’ve been taking such _brilliant_ care of her up until now, haven’t they?” the larger blond said. “If they gave two shites about their daughter, then she would not have been struggling to survive, doing what you two were doing.”

 

Draco pushed his embarrassment away and tried to stand tall. Yes, their life had been shite, but.... He sighed. “All right then. So, back to my original point. Pansy’s...like a sister to me, so...what are your intentions?”

 

Dudley shrugged. “Right now, I’m getting to know her,” he said honestly. “She’s fascinating! I like spending time with her and I hope we can have...more. Plus, she’s completely adorable.”

 

The thinner blond man nodded. “Okay.”

 

“So, I have a question for you,” Dudley said—then turned the table. “What are your intentions with Harry?”

 

Draco’s eyes widened. “My w-what?!”

 

Dudley rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on! Since you guys came here, how many nights have you actually slept in _your_ bed?”

 

“It hasn’t been like that,” Draco denied, shaking his head—and feeling panic rise in his chest. “I was...I just needed a place to sleep.” Draco shook his head. “It’s not like that.”

 

“But you want it to be?” Dudley pushed.

 

“Where are you getting this information?” Draco snapped.

 

Dudley grinned. “First, I have eyes. You and Harry...seem to be all over each other without even touching. The pair of you are always looking at each other when you think the other isn’t looking. And second, Pansy’s filled me in on the seven year long foreplay. How are you two even still functioning after all that lack of release?”

 

Draco sighed. “It really wasn’t like that.”

 

“If you say so,” said Dudley.

 

“Not that I’ve had a choice...about staying in a room that’s not mine,” Draco said to redirect the conversation. “...since _someone’s_ always in _my_ room.”

 

Dudley laughed. “We don’t have to monopolize the room _every_ evening. In fact, maybe Harry can give me my own room, so Pansy can come see me sometimes.” He continued to grin.

 

“I was wondering about that...” Draco started—then frowned. “Not the you and Pansy finding time to see each other thing. Though, I will say that it’s...quite _odd_.”

 

“What then?”

 

“Well, I’m referring to you and your mother sharing a room here,” Draco said. “Potter has loads of space and even if there wasn’t another room, he could create space or divide up the room you’re sharing into two rooms. It wouldn’t take that much effort to arrange, so...I don’t understand the sharing.”

 

Dudley sighed. “Mum was terrified when we first came here...after my father abandoned us.”

 

“Abandoned you?”

 

Dudley shrugged. “Mum and I wanted to look for Harry after...you know, that maniac was finally gone. But dad said no. He was used to us just following along with anything he wanted, so when mum put her foot down, he gave us the boot.”

 

Draco just stared at him, completely surprised.

 

“I mean, mum and I were shite to Harry too, so he had no reason to take us in, but he did. I told her I was staying with him whether she stayed or not, so she stayed...but it was hard on her. It’s still hard sometimes. All the magic that we _don’t_ have...” Dudley shrugged. “It’s scary.”

 

Draco nodded. “I can see how that would be the case.”

 

“So she agreed to stay at Harry’s if I stayed with her,” Dudley said. “In the beginning it was fine, you know? We had a roof over our heads and felt relatively safe...on the Muggle level of the house. But now...” He chuckled. “I just want some alone time...with Pansy.” Then he frowned. “Er...in a nice, gentlemanly sort of way.”

 

Draco snorted a laugh. “As long as she fancies you back and you don’t hurt her...in _any_ way,” he added pointedly, “I have no issue with you spending time with my friend.”

 

Dudley grinned. “Really?”

 

“Really,” said Draco.

 

“Brilliant!”

 

“Right.”

 

“So maybe one of us should speak with Harry about rooming arrangements.”

 

Draco frowned. “Should probably be you...Potter’s not my biggest fan.”

 

“So says you,” said Dudley, amusement in his voice. “But...yeah. Okay. I’ll do that as soon as possible.”

 

Draco sighed with relief—and disappointment. It would be good to not have to avoid his own room—as well as frustrating that he would have no excuse to hang out with his black-haired nemesis.

**-oOo-**

After breakfast, Draco was heading back up to his room. He was going to stop by the library to find something to read first—there was very little to do in Potter’s home—when he heard voices in the drawing room.

 

“But... _why_ can’t I go out with Harry, Gran?” Teddy demanded.

 

“Because, Teddy, Harry’s going out with his friends tonight,” Andromeda explained.

 

“But...but it’s just Ron and Neville and...and Dean and Seamus,” the boy went on, tears filling his eyes. “I know them. They’re funny. I want to go too.”

 

Andromeda sighed. “I know you do, darling, but tonight we’re going to let Harry go out and have some adult fun with his friends.

 

Teddy started to cry in earnest. “Harry has lots of friends here at home though, so...he doesn’t _need_ to go out.”

 

Andromeda smiled at her grandson. “I know you want him home, but tonight he’s going out,” she said as she pulled the boy into her arms and held him while he cried.

 

Glancing up, she noticed her nephew in the doorway and realized he was about to offer to hang out with his little cousin, but she knew that he too was going out, so she gave her head a shake and motioned him away.

 

Frowning, Draco got the hint and quickly made his way back up to his bedroom where—thank Salazar—Pansy was _not_ canoodling with Dudley. Where the two of them were, Draco had no idea, but he was pleased that he could just sit and read in peace and quiet for a bit.

 

He’d no sooner flopped down on his bed and opened the book he’d chosen, however, when someone tapped on the door.

 

“Come in,” he said loud enough to be heard—it was Theo.

 

“So. George wants to go out. Like, a bunch of us. You want to join?” Theo asked.

 

Draco frowned. He didn’t have a knut to his name. “And how does anyone in this house have the means to pay for such an outing?”

 

Theo chuckled. “There are a few places that just charge whatever we order to the house and, while Harry doesn’t have as much in his vaults as you used to, he’s no pauper.”

 

Draco narrowed his eyes. “I don’t recall you being into handouts, Nott.”

 

Theo grinned. “While I do reside in Harry home, I’m not without...means.”

 

“Hmm. Father leave you a little something when he went off to Azkaban?”

 

“Don’t be a twat, Draco!” Theo snapped. “I know that you’re aware that my father’s Galleons were confiscated. But what you may not know is that, once I came of age, I was given access to my inheritance from my mother, so...”

 

Draco glanced away—he had _nothing_!

 

Theo sighed. He’d been an arse intentionally and now he felt bad for kicking his friend while he was down. “I do, however, have a bit of a job, so I make a little money of my own,” he continued. “I don’t make a lot, but it’s certainly enough to buy myself a drink every now and then.

 

Draco blinked. “You... _work_?”

 

Theo laughed. “Yes. I do. For George.”

 

Draco stared. “Really? Wow!”

 

“Did you think we were all just a bunch of layabouts?”

 

Draco shrugged. “I hadn’t really given it much thought until now,” he admitted. “That’s just... I don’t do anything,” he said quietly.

 

Theo shook his head. “Harry doesn’t expect us to do anything until we’re ready. Some of us are more capable than others. Ben works the most...being a healer and all. George, as damaged as he is, works a lot too. I mean, he has his shop. Luna works a bit with her father, but she also helps Petunia up on the roof in her garden. Says being in nature relaxes her. Dennis and Nigel make wine in the basement.”

 

“Do they really?” Draco asked, surprised.

 

“Yep! And we drink most nights at dinner,” Theo said—then went on. “Beth and Andromeda take turns with the little ones and...well, they’re also sort of like the mind-healers of the house. Katie still has nightmares. Alannis and Heather hardly sleep, while Flora is rarely awake. Though, when she is, she just sits and stares...or cries. If you haven’t noticed, we’re all a bit fucked up.” He laughed caustically. “When you find your thing, you’ll do it.”

 

Draco snorted. “Well, isn’t that just...encouraging?”

 

“Try not to dwell on it, Draco. Just...take each day as it comes. Some days will be better than others.”

 

“Well, aren’t you a wise one?” the blond teased his friend.

 

Theo smiled. “I was _always_ the wise one.”

 

“And I recall you being the loner.”

 

Theo shrugged. “I had to be...to stay completely out of it all.”

 

Draco nodded. “Makes sense.”

 

“So. Would you like to join us tonight?” Theo asked again. “It’ll be good for you to get out of the house.”

 

Sighing, Draco shrugged. “Okay. I guess you’re right.”

 

Theo grinned. “Great! Meet me downstairs in the foyer at half five,” he said as he headed out of Draco’s room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Usually I like to have the next chapter completed before I post, but I haven't even started it yet. Might be a while (again)...sorry! Work is just CRAZY right now. *sigh*
> 
> Thank you for reading! ♥


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